


I am Pornlocked

by RosieFreebatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Porn Challenge, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/F, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Kink Meme, M/M, Omega Verse, Porn, Porn With Plot, Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampire Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-28 06:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 54,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10825359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieFreebatch/pseuds/RosieFreebatch
Summary: Count me in for the 31 Days of Porn Challenge, Sherlock style! I'm not the best when it comes to smut but I'd figure I'd give it a try. All characters & ships are on the table and each story is a one-shot.





	1. Faking It to Making It

**Author's Note:**

> Day One - Pretending

"Sherlock, you are ridiculous. This plan of yours is not going to work, so count me out!"

John Watson stands in front his best friend Sherlock Holmes, arms crossed and deep blue eyes narrowed. Sherlock may be a genius when it comes to many things, but he's an absolute idiot involving matters of the heart.

"Oh come on John, it's just for a few hours. What's it going to hurt?" Sherlock replied, putting on his best puppy dog expression. John isn't having any of it.

"I am not going to pretend to be your new boyfriend to make your ex-boyfriend jealous! He dumped you remember? He's not going to give two shits that you found someone else. He's a douche of the highest order."

Sherlock smirked haughtily. John instantly knew what that look meant. Sherlock found out something, and of course that something was always beneficial to whatever scheme he'd cooked up in that brilliant mind of his.

"Okay genius, spill it. You know something don't you?"

"I have it on good authority that Victor's latest fling dropped him two weeks ago."

John snorted. "Good authority? You mean Irene. She's the biggest gossip on campus."

Sherlock's mouth dropped open and this time John smirked. "I'm not as dumb as you think I am. That woman is the _The Daily Mirror_ on two legs."

"Okay, so forget Irene. Will you do it? Please Jawn, I need you." Sherlock gazed down at John through those long, gorgeous eyelashes. He knew that John liked it when he said his name that way.

"I really shouldn't. Harry's the one who gets herself involved in stupid shit like this not me, but what the hell, I've got nothing better to do tomorrow night." He bore his eyes into Sherlock's grayish blue ones. "But you're not going to make this into some melodramatic production like you're known to do. Understood?"

"Completely John." Sherlock grinned at his friend. "I can't wait to see the look on Victor's face when I show up to that infernal party with you."

"Yeah, well he knows we're best friends Sherlock. It won't be that much of a surprise."

"Yes but he also said that you'd get fed up with me and end our friendship."

"What?" John's face reddened with annoyance. "When did he say that?"

"The day he broke up with me. I told him I didn't need him, I had you and he sneered and said it wouldn't be for long, that you'd leave me like everyone else." Sherlock looked down at his loafers, not wanting to meet John's eyes.

"Ooh, that Victor is a jerk and an arse. I don't know what you saw in him," John huffed.

"He was almost as smart as me, I thought it would be tolerable to date him. I was wrong, for once in my life."

"He's not that smart if you can't see what an amazing person you are."

Sherlock turned and blushed. He still wasn't used to John's compliments even though they'd been friends for the two years they'd been at St. Bart's, still not used to the handsome, blond, popular rugby player and med student wanting to be his friend and spend time with him. He was something of an odd duck on campus with his deductions and bristling personality. It hadn't endeared him to many people. But he wasn't concerned with most people.

"So, what time is this party?" John asked, interrupting Sherlock's thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, seven, at Jim's house."

"I'll be there with bells on."

*****  
John thought Sherlock looked gorgeous as always, in tight dark jeans and a white button-down short sleeved shirt which showed off his thin but toned arms. He had a bit of stubble on his face and his dark hair was cut short. Victor was a fool for letting him go, he thought.

Sherlock was admiring John too. It had been too warm to wear one of his trusty jumpers, so he had on a maroon and white checkered short-sleeved shirt on over a white-T shirt and dark blue jeans. His blond hair was still a little spiky from the shower. Sherlock thought he looked like a sexy hedgehog.

The two walked through the living room. People were standing and sitting, talking loudly. Most had plastic cups of alcohol in their hand.

"See Victor yet?" John asked, scanning the room.

"Not yet," Sherlock answered.

"What if he doesn't come?"

"He'll be here. He's never one to turn down a party." Sherlock put an arm around John and pulled him close. John blushed a little.

"John, we've got to look like we're dating. Relax."

"Yeah, right, forgot." John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist and smiled. It did feel nice touching the other boy, and Sherlock smelled heavenly. _Where did that come from? Heavenly? Keep it together Watson, this is just for show._

Meanwhile, Sherlock's insides were growing warm being so close to John. Wonderful, sweet John, who called him "brilliant" and "amazing" and loved hearing him deduce strangers. Why did he want to be with Victor in the first place? He should have asked John out instead. John dated boys and girls, he didn't discriminate. But they were just friends and that's all Sherlock wanted them to be. Wasn't it?

*****  
They had been at the party for an hour, sitting and talking with Greg Lestrade and Molly Hooper, when Victor rolled in alone. Sherlock looked up and saw him, and he couldn't help the tightness in his chest. Victor was beautiful, with his light brown hair and baby blue eyes. He grabbed John's hand and squeezed it tight.

"Still wanna do this?" John whispered. Sherlock nodded. "Yeah."

Victor made a beeline for Sherlock and John. "Hello Sherly," Victor drawled. Sherlock tried hard not to cringe at the nickname Victor gave him when they first started dating. "You look ravishing." His eyes turned to John, and his hand that Sherlock was still holding, and he had an amused look on his face. "You're dating John now?"

Sherlock swallowed hard. "Yes. It's only natural that we as best friends would eventually become lovers."

Molly and Greg exchanged glances but said nothing, getting up, sensing something was off.

"Were you so distraught at our breakup that you turned to John, of all people?" Victor sneered.

John's anger began to rise. His blue eyes narrowed into slits. "Of course he would Victor. I've been here for him for two years. You were only here for what, four months? Hardly enough time to appreciate him as the wonderful person he is. Then you left him for someone else, broke his heart. Now you're the one that got dumped, and you're thinking you can worm your way back into his heart, right?"

Sherlock turned his head sharply towards John. _He's really selling this performance,_ he thought. He couldn't help but smirk proudly.

"Come on John, be real. You're not right for him. You're poor and you play rugby. Sherly hates sports." Victor crossed his arms and grinned haughtily.

"You know what else he hates? Being called Sherly. He's a grown man, not five years old. Pull your head out of your arse," John retorted.

Victor peered at his ex intensely. "You can't be serious. I came to this party tonight knowing you'd be here and I thought we could get back together. I was stupid to leave you. What do you say, give me another chance?"

Sherlock just laughed. "Sorry Victor. I want nothing to do with you. Why do you think I'm here with John. I want to be with him. I wanted you to see that we're together now and there's nothing you can do. Go find someone else. I've moved on."

Victor opened his mouth, but closed it and huffed, stomping away. John and Sherlock looked at each other, and John broke out into giggles. "He bought it!"

"Yes he did." Sherlock curved up his Cupid's Bow lips into a knowing smile.

"So does this mean we can leave now?" John cast a hopeful glance at Sherlock.

"Oh God yes. Let's get out of here."

*****  
The two boys collapsed into Sherlock's dorm, laughing and giggling at their charade. Sherlock sat on his bed, and John plopped down on the floor in front of him. "Maybe we should change our majors to theatre, because we put on a pretty damn convincing performance."

Sherlock watched as John lay back on his elbows, his legs spread a little. His tongue darted out and he licked his lips, and that sparked something fiery in the pit of Sherlock's gut. He could feel the heat spreading within him and he realized what it was. John was making him hot. Hot and horny, and in that moment, he wanted.

"John," he breathed, moving off the bed and down in front of John, straddling him. "I don't think we should pretend anymore."

"What?" John sat up, confused.

"I think we should really be lovers," Sherlock replied huskily, moving his lithe body over his.

"You---you can't be serious."

Sherlock grinned down wolfishly at him. "I'm very serious. I've become extremely attracted to you John."

John was floored. Sherlock found him attractive? Short, ordinary John Hamish Watson?

"'But I'm not as smart as you, or as good-looking..."

"John, believe me when I say that you _are_ smart and good-looking. I don't want another pretentious twit like Victor, who'll string me along and then leave me. I need someone who genuinely likes me and appreciates me, and that's you. We can be good for each other John. And I know you find me attractive too."

"Well I admit yes---mmph!"

John's words were cut off as Sherlock's plump lips consumed his and his tongue was working its way into John's mouth. John parted his lips and soon the two were exchanging sloppy, wet, needy kisses. Sherlock pushed John back onto the floor and quickly began to undo his belt, and unfastening the button and zipper of his jeans.

John raised his hips so Sherlock could pull them down. Sherlock chuckled. "Red pants John?"

"Hey, don't make fun."

"I adore them." Sherlock slipped his hands inside and began to fondle John's hardening cock.

"Oh Christ Sherlock, that feels so good. Don't stop," John moaned.

Sherlock stroked him to a complete erection and then without warning, took him into his mouth.

"Holy shit!" John cried out, reacting to the sudden wet heat.

Sherlock made good use of his tongue, licking and sucking John slowly. It was sweet, sweet torture, and John wasn't sure if he was going to last long. He thrust his hips up, and Sherlock kept up with the movement, taking him in even deeper.

"God Sherlock, you're bloody brilliant at this. I'm going to come, I can feel it," John breathlessly praised.

Sherlock stayed with him as John climaxed, yelling out his name in a blaze of white hot lust, exploding down Sherlock's throat. The genius swallowed every last drop, and slid his mouth off of John with an obscene wet pop. John groaned long and loud as he felt the cool air surround his cock.

Sherlock licked his lips and collapsed on top of John, who was still hard. "Sher, that was amazing. That was the best blowjob I ever had."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. You're terrific." John massaged Sherlock's raven tresses with his right hand, and the taller boy keened at the touch.

Sherlock raised his head to meet John in a warm, passionate kiss. "Aren't you glad you decided to play pretend now?"

John laughed. "Very glad."

"Come and sleep with me. Come cuddle with me," Sherlock said, getting off the floor and beginning to undress. John joined him and also began to strip, and the two got into the narrow bed. Sherlock turned out the lights, and got into bed with John getting in seconds later. It took them a while to get settled with the bed being so narrow, but eventually, Sherlock was spooning John from behind, wrapping his long arms around him and planting soft, gentle kisses on his neck. "But now, this is for real."

"Always," John replied, beginning to succumb to the calling of sleep, and Sherlock soon followed him in a peaceful slumber.


	2. Breast is Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omegaverse. Alpha Sherlock wants a taste of his omega John's milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Two - Lactating/Nursing

John smiled as he looked down at his baby girl, latched on to his breast, nursing. Rosamund Willa "Rosie" Holmes was a lovely little cherub with blonde curls and dark blue eyes. He couldn't believe that after nine months of carrying her and six hours of labor, she was finally here, and healthy as a horse. 

His husband and alpha, Sherlock Holmes, had been called to a crime scene by Lestrade. He at first didn't want to go, not wanting to leave his spouse and new baby daughter, but John encouraged him to do it. The case was baffling---two alphas found dead in a locked hotel room, no sign of forced entry and no immediate signs of foul play. 

John hummed Rosie a lullaby as she fed. She was a hungry pup, and when she finally finished, John held her over his shoulder and patted her. Rosie let out a loud burp, which made John chuckle. "Good girl. Now let's get some sleep yeah?" He pressed the call button and within a few minutes a nurse came in. She smiled at the new daddy and baby. "How are you doing Mr. Holmes?" she asked.

"Wonderful Sarah, although still in a little pain," John replied.

"I'll get some medicine for you. Would you like me to put your little one in the bassinet?"

"Yes please. It's time both of us got some rest."

Sarah carefully took Rosie and placed her in the bassinet right next to John. Satiated from her feeding, she quickly fell asleep. "I'll be back with your pain pill and a cup of water."

John settled back into the bed and a few moments later Sarah returned. He swallowed the pill, took a big drink of water, and she set the cup on a tray on the opposite side of the bed. She turned out the lights, and soon John was asleep.

*****  
John awoke to see Sherlock sitting next to him, gazing at him full of love. "Hey you, what time is it?"

"Six-thirty. You slept through dinner."

"Oh, wasn't hungry anyway. He glanced around the room. "Where's Rosie?"

"The nurse took her to get a bath."

John nodded. "How was the case, did you solve it?"

"Of course. It was murder, as I suspected. The killer was an omega who discovered her alpha was cheating on her with another alpha. She followed them to the hotel room they would check into for their trysts, and she confronted them, injecting each of them with succinylcholine. She was a nurse, but didn't work in this hospital. She had easy access to the drug, stole it from a medicine cabinet during a shift."

"Succinylcholine is a very hard drug to detect. It's a muscle relaxer and causes short-term paralysis. Enough of it can produce heart-attack like symptoms," John explained. Him being a doctor, he was well aware of the drug and what it can do.

"Exactly. That's why Anderson said the deaths were heart attacks at first. They were, but as usual he still got it wrong." Sherlock rolled his eyes, and John chuckled. Then he groaned and looked down at his chest. His breasts were full of milk. It wouldn't be long before he'd have to feed Rosie.

Sherlock watched John, admiring the way his nipples showed through his hospital gown. While he was pregnant, he always fondled his mate's breasts. He loved the feel of their swell and curves. And now that he was producing milk, he wondered how it would taste, how it would feel to take his mouth and latch on to one. Before he knew it, he was bending over John, pulling the blankets down, his hands going underneath John's gown, reaching for his breasts.

"Sherlock, what in the hell are you doing? The nurse could come back any minute with Rosie!" John hissed.

"Please John, I want to taste your milk. Just a little. I promise I'll be done before they return with Rosie. Please?"

John looked at the pleading eyes of his gorgeous husband. He was hurting a bit from the fullness of the milk, and some relief would definitely make him feel better. "Okay, you can have a taste. But save some for Rosie."

Sherlock grinned and reached around John's back to untie his gown. He pulled down the shoulders, exposing John's tanned chest. "So lovely," he breathed, as he cupped one of John's breasts. John groaned at the touch.

"So full," Sherlock whispered. Then he opened his mouth and latched on, humming as the sweet creamy milk flowed from John's nipple into his mouth. John exhaled slowly, feeling instant relief as the milk trickled out. "God, that feels wonderful. Do the other breast."

Sherlock let go and moved to the left breast, savoring the milk once more. His hand reached down to John's cock and he began to stroke him gently. John fought back a moan and prayed the nurse wouldn't come in.

John came in Sherlock's hand, and as he did so, the milk spurted quickly at the same time. Sherlock took his mouth away, and got up to the sink to wet a paper towel so he could clean John off. 

Once Sherlock was done, and John safely tucked under the blanket, Sarah returned with a clean and fresh-smelling Rosie, who was bundled up in a lilac blanket and matching cap. "Your little girl is all clean and ready for a feeding." She handed the baby to John, who held her close. "Thanks Sarah."

"Oh anytime, she's a doll and such an agreeable little thing."

"That means she's probably an omega." John pulled down his gown, exposing his breasts, and Rosie rapidly latched on to feed. "There you are pretty girl, dinner."

Sarah left the two, and Sherlock sat, intently watching his daughter nurse. "John, do you think we can do it again when we get home---can I nurse too? It was so comforting, and it calmed my mind."

"John smiled. "Of course love. It definitely helps with the pain when my breasts get too full." 

Sherlock leaned in and kissed his omega. "I love you, and I love our baby girl. I still can't believe we created something so special and beautiful."

"I love you too, my mad, brilliant alpha, and I can't believe it either."

A few minutes later, Rosie was satisfied, and Sherlock picked her up and put her down to sleep. He climbed into bed with John, who guided his face into his breasts. Sherlock began to feed again, and John ran a hand through his curls, chuckling. Now he had two babies to take care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will try to catch up with the rest this weekend!


	3. Hot Diggity Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage Irene is horny and looking for action. She chooses to satisfy her needs in a most unusual way. Disaster almost strikes, but someone unlikely comes to her rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by this [ urban legend.](http://www.snopes.com/college/risque/hotdog.asp)

Day Three - Unusual Sex Toy(s)

Irene Adler is horny tonight, but she's also miserable. She thought for sure she'd score tonight but so far she's zero for zero. The guy she really wanted, Sherlock Holmes, is sitting in the corner with one very blond and muscular John Watson on his lap, snogging him shamelessly. So he's no longer an option. His brother Sherrinford is a no-go as he's making a fool of himself over Jim Moriarty, following him everywhere and gushing like an idiot over his jokes. She's so hot and bothered she even thought about making a play for the other brother Mycroft, but apparently he is now hooked up with Greg Lestrade of all people. Then there's little sister Eurus, who is cute but she's also fourteen years old. Irene may be many things, but she's not a pedophile.

Irene isn't picky. Guy, girl...sex is sex to her. Needs must, and tonight, any one unattached will do. But thanks to her reputation as a heartbreaker, no one's approached her. She's okay as a friend but not anything more, and deep down it makes her a little sad. But there's no time for moping. Something has to give and she will get laid tonight.

*****  
Everyone else is gathered in the Holmes' den for a game of Truth or Dare. Irene decided to skip it. Everyone knows everything about her anyway. She's in the kitchen, rooting through the expansive freezer, looking for a popsicle, when she spots them: a package of individually wrapped hot dogs. The wheels in her sex-crazed mind start to turn. If she can't have a real live wiener inside her, than this is the next best thing. Looking around to make sure she's alone, she tears off one of the hot dogs, carefully puts the rest inside the freezer, and heads to a private space to work off her lust.

She goes upstairs to a guest bathroom, shuts the door and locks it. She removes her miniskirt and panties, removes her small crossbody purse she had wrapped around her chest and steps into the bathtub, spreading her legs. She looks at the frozen hot dog with a lascivious gleam in her blue eyes and brings her hand down between her thighs. She's already beginning to get wet at the thought of inserting the meat inside her, imagining the cold, hard strokes sliding in and out of her heated flesh.

Irene carefully begins to push the hot dog up into her vagina, letting out a little moan at the icy sharp coldness filling her walls. She soon gets used to the feeling, and slowly begins moving the hot dog in and out, gasping at how pleasurable it is. "Dear God," she cries breathlessly.

She begins to speed up her strokes, and her moans get louder. She can't believe how amazing this feels. Her left hand moves to the top of her crotch and she begins to rub the sensitive skin furiously. The combined sensations are quickly pushing her over the edge. It won't be long before she comes.

But then, total disaster strikes. The hot dog breaks in half in her hand. The bottom part falls into the tub with a soft clink. The top part is stuffed up inside her. Irene begins to panic. She tries desperately to remove the other half, but she's unsuccessful.

Tears form in her eyes as she wonders how she's going to dislodge that piece of meat caught in her vagina. She'll have to go to the hospital, and she'll be completely and utterly humiliated. But she can't let it stay there and fester. God knows what kind of infection she could catch.

Just then, there's a knock on the bathroom door. Irene puts her hand to her mouth and bites down, desperately trying to keep quiet. "Is anyone in there?" a soft female voice calls out.

Irene recognizes the voice as Molly Hooper's, a quiet but cute girl that's in her English Lit class. Maybe Molly could help her, she always talks about becoming a pathologist one day. She'd have no qualms about poking and prodding inside a body. So Irene decided to bite the bullet and reply.

"Molly, it's Irene. I need your help, but I've locked the door. I'll open it for you." She stands up painfully slow, wincing at the feeling of the thawing piece of hot dog squished inside her. She unlocks the door. Molly's eyes are blown wide, and her mouth drops. "Irene! What in blazes is going on?"

Irene pulls her inside and locks the door again. "Molly, I need your help, but you better not tell anyone about this." She begins to relay her tale of self-pleasure gone wrong.

Molly can't believe what she's hearing, but she agrees to help. This would definitely be a good experience for her if she wants to be a pathologist. "Okay, I'm going to help you get dressed and out of the house to a hospital where they can remove it. I'll stay with you and I promise I won't tell a soul. I know a back way out, let's go."

The two girls somehow make it out of the house (with the other half of the hot dog that fell into the tub) and to Irene's car (she doesn't want it to be seen on the property). Irene hands her the keys from her purse and Molly makes the drive to St. Bart's Hospital, where after thirty agonizing minutes of waiting in the A&E lobby, Irene is taken to a private room where a female doctor is able to remove the broken half of the hot dog from her vagina. She's given cleansing wipes to clean herself off. Irene is mortified at all of this, but the doctor doesn't shame her. "You're not the first one to go through this experience and you won't be the last. You wouldn't believe how creative people can get when it comes to stimulation."

Molly is there beside her the entire time. "It's okay now Irene. You can chalk it up to sexual curiosity and forget this ever happened, and no one will know. Are you okay to drive home?"

"Yes." She smiles at Molly. "I don't know what would have happened if you didn't knock on that door. I could have made it out myself, but I was such in a panic...thank you." And without thinking, she places a kiss on Molly's cheek. Molly blushes, but grins.

A week later, the two have their first official date. Irene's blissfully happy, but she never wants to cast her eyes on another hot dog as long as she lives.


	4. Just Desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are working a case in America, Maryland to be exact. They stop for lunch at Sonic. Sherlock wants no part of it...until he witnesses John enjoying a frozen treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I live in Maryland, and I've been to the Sonic mentioned in the story. My aunt and uncle used to live in Elkton.

Day Four - Food

Sherlock was doing one of his famous sulks. He was sitting behind the wheel of a rental car, frowning and silently huffing. He and John had been sent to America, to the state of Maryland, to a tiny town called Elkton, following a prescription drug trafficker based out of London who came to Elkton to peddle his goods. Elkton had a reputation in the state for being home to rampant prescription drug abuse.

Sherlock thought Elkton was dull as dishwater. It reminded him of some of the small cities back home where the Tesco was the big draw, and little rundown shops littered every corner. Those places bored him, and this place here was boring him too.

John found it charming. In between chasing after Nigel "Tiny Tot" Jacobs (so nicknamed because he was even shorter than John and looked nineteen despite his actual age being thirty-four), he'd had a blast, walking through the aisles at K-Mart ("The prices on jeans in there are bloody cheap!") and discovering the temptation that was Popeye's Chicken. He'd taken advantage of their eleven piece deal for twelve dollars, and drove Sherlock nearly nuts with all the lip-smacking he did while eating it. Sherlock refused to touch any of the food at first, but when he realized there was no equivalent to Angelo's in town, he ended up wolfing down two drumsticks and a thigh.

Now he's sitting at a drive-in called Sonic, where you have to eat the food in your car, and he hates it. "John, why did you insist in coming here of all places for lunch? Surely we could have gone somewhere and sat down. There was what looked like a nice little place up the road," he whined.

"Quit your stropping Sherlock. It's bad enough Rosie's going through her terrible twos, I don't need a man pushing forty regressing back to his toddler-hood. Besides, it's kind of neat they still have these places around."

Sherlock just harrumphed and turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at John, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head, wondering if it was a good idea to actually be in a relationship with a man who may be a certified genius, but had the emotional intelligence of a barnacle.

Those thoughts were quickly pushed aside when the waitress brought him his food. Sherlock had refused to order anything. John immediately dug into his cheeseburger, he was starving. Sherlock continued to stare out the driver side window, lips pursed tight.

*****  
John finished his meal, and Sherlock was relieved to finally be getting away from Sonic, but his mood fouled again when John decided to order a frozen concoction called a Sonic Blast. "We don't have to sit here while I eat it you berk, you can drive back to the motel," John told him.

So Sherlock did just that. John was enjoying his blast, humming at the taste of the ice cream mixed with fudge, caramel, and brownie pieces. "Want a taste?" he asked his boyfriend, holding up a spoonful towards Sherlock.

"Absolutely not," Sherlock bit back.

"Fine then. More for me. Mmm," John said as he put the spoon back inside his mouth. "This is divine."

Sherlock watched John's tongue swirl around the long red spoon, licking the white creamy goodness of the vanilla ice cream up, and he suddenly imagined John's gorgeous mouth around his cock. He could feel it twitch and get hard. 

John continued to make the most delicious noises as he ate his dessert, and Sherlock was growing stiffer and stiffer, his cock beginning to ache wildly, still imagining John sucking him dry.

The motel was soon in sight, and Sherlock did a sharp turn into the parking lot. John wasn't expecting it and he dropped his cup into his lap. "Bloody hell Sherlock!" he hollered as cold, melting ice cream began to soak into his trousers.

Sherlock parked, tore open the door, rushed to John's side, and frantically began to undo his seatbelt. "Sherlock, it's okay, I'm sorry I hollered at you, they'll dry," the blond said soothingly.

"No John, I don't care about your trousers. I need to get us inside our room quickly, before I have an accident myself."

"Wha---" John began, but then he looked down at Sherlock's slacks and the large boner poking out from beneath the fabric. "I see what you mean," he teased.

Sherlock dragged John from the car, and to the door of their room. He said a silent prayer that it was on the first floor. He pulled the room key out of his suit pocket and opened up the door. He rushed in, grabbing John's hand. "Clothes off now!" he yelled.

"You got turned on by me eating that dessert didn't you?" John asked, grinning madly.

"Yes. Now take off your clothes." 

John wasted no time getting naked, and he found himself kneeling between Sherlock's legs, giving him the blowjob the genius had been craving.

An hour later, the two were lying in bed, listening to the rain pour down outside. "John?" Sherlock murmured sleepily.

"Yeah love, what is it?"

"Do you think we could go to Popeye's later? I missed lunch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Popeye's Chicken....yum!!!!


	5. Snaked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg invites Molly to his flat for dinner and introduces her to his new pet snake. Later, she's introduced to another kind of snake. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love me some Mollstrade!

Day Five - Pet Play

"Molly, you look very pretty tonight." 

Molly blushes and smiles at Greg's compliment. She and the handsome Detective Inspector have been seeing each other casually for three months now, after her failed engagement to Tom. They have a nice, easy relationship, going out to dinner, to the cinema, and they spend time at each other's flats watching telly and cuddling. There's been kissing---a ton of kissing---but so far no actual sex. They don't want to rush anything just yet.

But tonight, there seems to be something different in the air. They both feel something's about to spark. Of course, it could be the heat, it's been unusually warm and stormy the last month, and Molly's been wearing skirts and dresses to work more often, which Greg has taken notice of.

Molly is wearing a coral sundress and a few days ago she had her brown hair cut shoulder length. Greg thinks the shorter style compliments her oval shaped face quite nicely and makes her look younger.

The pathologist enters Greg's flat. It's small and sparsely decorated, but it's comfortable and clean. She takes a look around and notices a large glass tank sitting on top of a table pushed up against the wall next to Greg's TV stand. The tank and table weren't there last time she was here.

Greg notices her eyeing his new acquisition. "I have a new flatmate. Dimmock gave him to me. It used to belong to his son, but their new landlord doesn't allow pets, so I offered to take it off their hands. Would you like to be introduced?"

"Okay," Molly says, a little reluctantly. It has to be some kind of reptile, and she's not too fond of cold-blooded creatures.

She follows Greg to the tank. She peers down and sees the tell-tale marks of a python, and jumps back a little. "A snake? You got a pet snake?"

Greg nods happily. "Yeah. His name is Kirk, after Captain Kirk in Star Trek. Dimmock and his kid are huge fans. He's a ball python, he's not venomous and he's pretty friendly, likes people." He grins knowingly at Molly. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Uh, no thank you. I'm sure he's fine where he's at." 

Greg chuckles. "Of course. If you don't want him out of the tank, then that's where he'll stay. He claps his hands together. "Now, I promised you a romantic dinner, didn't I?" 

Molly giggles. "Yes you did."

"Is takeaway okay? Thai, Chinese, Indian...your choice.

"Hmm, I've been wanting to try that new Indian place, Priya's, down the street. John tells me they have the best peanut chicken."

"Then Priya's it is! Let me look up the phone number."

*****  
After a wonderful dinner, Molly and Greg are cuddling on Greg's couch, watching TV. Greg is nuzzling Molly's cheek and Molly is drawing circles with her finger on Greg's chest. The two turn to face each other and begin kissing.

At that moment, Kirk the python slithers up towards the top of his tank and manages to loosen the lid ever so gently and he slithers out and onto the floor, making a beeline for the couch.

Greg is now lying on top of Molly, the two sharing passionate kisses. Greg takes his hand and begins lifting Molly's dress up to her thighs. Molly's body responds with warm tingles. "Oh Greg," she breathes thickly. "I want you so much. Make love to me please."

"God Molly, I've been waiting for you to say those words to me for the last month." Greg moves his mouth to her neck, sucking and licking her soft, creamy skin. He nips her gently, before he gets off her and stands up. "I'll be back sweetheart, getting condoms." He heads for the bedroom.

Molly lies on the couch, eyes closed, in a complete state of bliss. She feels something smooth begin to caress her leg. "Ooh Greg, that feels amazing. Don't stop love."

She squeals and moans with pleasure, still keeping her eyes closed, as the caresses continue. "Greg, you bloody devil, you're making even more horny than I already am."

Then she feels a tongue moistening the top of her chest, but it feels weird. She quickly opens her eyes---and sees two beady eyes and a forked tongue attached to a long, slithering body with gold and brown spots staring back at her. Molly lets out a scream and shoots off the couch, Kirk the python coiling around her shoulders as a reaction to her sudden moves. Molly is petrified with fear, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Greg rushes into the living room and sees Kirk wrapped around Molly. "Christ, let me help you!" He goes to her and as she continues to stand as still as a statue, Greg removes Kirk from his girlfriend. "You nutter. You must have opened the lid to your tank and got out. And now you're trying to horn in on my woman!"

He laughs and puts Kirk back in his cage, making sure the lid in on tight. He goes back to Molly and puts his arms around her. "I'm sorry honey."

Molly rapidly begins to relax, going limp in his embrace. "No it's okay. It's not your fault. Seems Kirk is too smart for his own good."

"Well, he sure does have good taste if he went right to you." Greg leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. "I guess this means the end of our date."

Molly grins coyly at him. "Not necessarily. Before Kirk coiled himself around my shoulders, I have to admit, he felt pretty good sliding up my body. I thought it was you doing foreplay." She kisses him back, a little more roughly. "Why don't we go into the bedroom, and close the door. We don't need any uninvited visitors trying to make this a threesome."

*****  
Greg feels like he's going to burst into a million little pieces. Molly is so wet and loose, and she's making the most filthy sounds as he slides in and out of her hot core in a frenzied pace. 

He watches with a lustful gaze as her small, perfectly rounded breasts jiggle with each sharp thrust. Molly moves her hands to cover her mounds, squeezing them in time with the strokes of his hard cock.

Minutes later, Molly comes with a sharp cry of his name, sitting up and grabbing his hips as she spasms and clenches tight around his cock. Greg continues to thrust into her, placing his hands on both sides of her cheek, roughly whispering her name over and over again. Finally, it's all too much and he comes with a brusque shout, feeling his release spurt into the tip of his condom.

*****  
Laying together, both basking in the afterglow from their heated lovemaking, Greg lays a kiss on one of Molly's breasts and gives her a lazy smile. "So sweetheart, which snake did you prefer? Mine, or Kirk's?"

Molly giggled, turning so she was laying completely on top of her lover. "Well, Kirk had great execution, but your delivery was excellent." She covered his mouth with hers.

Greg got to "snake" Molly three more times that night.


	6. My Favorite Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock mistakenly thinks John, a young soldier getting ready to leave for Afghanistan, is one of the strippers at a club he's attending. Sparks fly and Sherlock does his part in "supporting the troops."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore older Sherlock/younger John stories. I did one with "A Study in Sugar Daddies," and here's my contribution for Day 6 of the 31 Day Porn Challenge.

Day Six - Misunderstanding

Sherlock was severely frustrated and annoyed. Lestrade had texted him right in the middle of an important experiment he was conducting involving toenail fungus with a case that turned out to be a four at least. It was a boring bank robbery and in under an hour, he determined it was an inside job by the bank manager and one of the tellers he was secretly sleeping with.

His experiment now ruined, Sherlock decided to blow off some steam. He decided to go to the male strip club his brother Mycroft owned and see what tonight's entertainment was.

*****

Sherrinford's was an upscale establishment that catered to wealthier patrons. The inside looked more like what you'd see at 10 Downing Street than the stereotypical strip joint. Sherlock still couldn't wrap his head around his stuffier older brother getting involved with a place like this, but Mycroft said it was a good business investment. 

Sherlock glanced around the room noticing a lot of men in uniform. "It's Military Appreciation Night," one of the waiters, a brawny young man named Carl told him. "Veterans and current enlists pay no cover charge and get half price on all drinks."

Sherlock merely nodded as he sipped his wine. 

*****

The strippers tonight were the run-of-the-mill variety and Sherlock was getting bored. He decided to call it a night when he saw a young man emerge from the doors to the dressing rooms. Sherlock took notice of him right away. He was short but muscular, admiring his toned arms from under the sleeves of his black and white striped T-shirt. His hair was blond, golden really, and he had a smile on him that could light up a room.

Sherlock wondered why this man hadn't danced on stage. He was clearly the most interesting out of all the men who'd performed tonight. For some unexplained reason, he was compelled to meet him.

Sherlock caught him halfway. "Hello. You must be a new dancer."

The blond frowned. "Dancer? No, I'm not one of the strippers."

"Really? Then why were you leaving the dressing rooms?"

The blond frowned again. Sherlock couldn't help think at how adorable he looked. "You checking me out or something?"

"I merely observe," Sherlock replied. "Can't you humor me?"

"Right. Well, if you're so keen on knowing, one of the dancers is a good friend of mine, Bill Murray. He's the one with the Army routine. Anyway, I was allowed backstage by the manager to say goodbye to him. I ship out for Afghanistan tomorrow afternoon."

Sherlock found it hard to believe this short, little, beautiful young man was going halfway across the world to fight in a war. But there was something in those dark blue eyes of his that showed fierce determination. Then he realized. _He's doing this to get away from an abusive home life, one that involves a difficult sibling._

"You've got family troubles don't you?" Sherlock asked matter-of-fact.

The blond's eyes widened, then narrowed. "How do you know that?"

"Like I said, I observe. You have a fading bruise on your bicep, most likely from someone grabbing you. You also have fading black circles under your eyes---perhaps you were up the previous night dealing with a troubled family member---a sibling?"

"Wow! That was amazing!" the blond replied, his mood brightening. "Are you a detective?"

Sherlock smiled for the first time today. "Consulting detective. The only one in the world, I invented the job. The police consult me when they're out of their depths, which is all the time." He held out his hand. "Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson," the blond replied, shaking his hand. "Soon to be a member of the Northumberland Fusiliers. I'm training to be an Army doctor. And yes, I was up all night last night helping my sister through a very bad bender, and fending off a very angry father. He grabbed me, trying to prevent me from comforting Harry. He's not a bad man, but gets so frustrated over her drinking, and he thinks I care too much."

"Well then, no doubt you'll make an excellent doctor," Sherlock told him.

The two looked at each other for a long moment. Time seemed to stand completely still and it was like no one else was in the room but them. Sherlock's face softened. John was beautiful, and irrational thoughts started to envelop him. He wanted John to be the last face he saw in London before he left, and he wanted to be the last person John touched as well.

"John, I know this may be forward of me, and you can say no, but before you leave tomorrow, I'd like for us to spend your last night here together. I have a flat on Baker Street."

John shot him a knowing grin. "And what would we be doing at your flat?"

"Whatever you want."

"Sex?"

"If you want."

"What if I'm not actually gay?"

Sherlock smirked. "You're not. You're bi."

John laughed and shook his head. "I shouldn't even go with you. What if you're secretly a serial killer?"

"Then you don't have to worry about going to Afghanistan."

John laughed again. "No, I wouldn't." He perused Sherlock from head to toe, as if he was appraising an auction item. "You're gorgeous. It's not everyday I get propositioned by a bloke that looks like they could be a cover model for GQ."

"So does that mean you'll come home with me?" Sherlock pressed, grinning at John.

"Oh God yes."

*****

Sherlock stood against the tiled wall in the shower, eyes closed and moaning with pleasure as John sucked his cock. He moved to place a hand on the top of John's head, massaging his blond locks that had darkened from the spraying water above, motioning for him to go deeper. He began to thrust into John's mouth, and the younger man didn't flinch as he took all of Sherlock's hard and aching cock inside his mouth.

John was on his knees, and as he continued to suck off Sherlock, he took his own stiff cock in hand, stroking it with frenzy. He released Sherlock with a filthy pop sound, giving himself a few quick pumps before he came with a hard shudder, spurting into the tub. He gently took Sherlock's cock in his hand and stroked him relentlessly until the older man came as well, hot release soaking his hand and fingers. 

He stood up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, the two joining their mouths in a fiery kiss. Sherlock broke it off to stare hungrily at John. "I wish you didn't have to go. I could keep you here forever."

"It would be nice staying here with you, but I have to go, for my own sanity." John laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "But we still have the rest of the night, and tomorrow morning. And we can email and Skype each other. Would you like that?"

"I'd love that John. I want to keep in contact with you. You're the most exciting thing to happen to me in years." Then Sherlock turned John around to face the tiles. He planted kisses up and down John's back, again getting hard as he heard John moan. 

"Please Sherlock, I want you inside me. You don't need to prep me. Please."

Sherlock lined up his cock to John's entrance, and slowly pushed inside, loving the sound of John moaning his name as he entered him, two becoming one, moving in and out of him with slow, deliberate, loving strokes. 

*****

_Six months later_

Sherlock waited with baited breath as he saw the bus pull into the station. He didn't want to seem too eager, so he stood back as other family members and loved ones rushed towards the vehicle.

The bus finally parked, and seconds later, the door opened to a stream of soldiers spilling out, running to meet their loved ones. Sherlock scanned the scene, and then when he finally saw the short handsome blond, he smiled happily. 

"Sherlock!" John yelled, dashing to reunite with his lover he hadn't seen since that amazing night six months ago.

John all but leaped in Sherlock's arms, dropping his duffel bag. The two held each other tightly, peppering each other with kisses, not caring who else saw.

"John, you look great. You've put more muscle on," Sherlock praised.

"You look good too. Glad to see you're still keeping up with meals." John had kept admonishing Sherlock over their Skype chats to eat regularly.

"So, what do you want to do now that you're on Christmas break? I have you for a whole two weeks," Sherlock said, giving him another kiss.

"I just want to hole up with you at the flat, have bloody hot sex, and watch the Doctor Who Christmas special."

"Bloody hot sex I'll gladly give. Doctor Who...not so much."

John laughed. "I'll make a Whovian out of you yet, just watch."

The two then walked arm and arm out of the bus station, eager to start celebrating the holiday, both wondering what would have happened if that silly misunderstanding hadn't brought them together.

 

 

 

 


	7. All The Nice Boys Like a Copper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Mycroft admires the uniform, among other things, of a police officer who brings home a wayward Sherlock. We all know who the police officer is!
> 
> Mycroft is 21, Sherlock 14, and Greg is 26.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day seven of the 31 day porn challenge. No real porn in this one though, sometimes leaving things to the imagination can be a lot more sexier.

Day Seven - Uniform/Clothing Kink

 

The doorbell rang, which was unusual for nine o'clock in the evening, especially for the Holmes household. Violet and Siger Holmes were away on a holiday in Brighton, and it was only Mycroft, his younger brother Sherlock, and a few live-in staff, who had all retired for the evening.

Mycroft put down the book he was reading to answer the door. Imagine his utter shock when he saw Sherlock with a nasty bruise on his cheek, being held from behind by a young police officer with an amused look on his face.

"Are you Mycroft Holmes?" the officer asked, trying to sound stern.

"What's Sherlock done this time?" Mycroft answered, exasperated. 

"Oh, has a habit of being a prat does he?" the officer replied, this time not being able to hide the grin from his face.

"It wasn't my fault. I merely suggested that Anderson stop trying to use his god-awful pickup lines on John and go back to Donovan, since she's the only one who can stand him," Sherlock retorted with a sniff.

"Let me guess, Anderson didn't like what you said and he punched you," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "Sherlock, how many times do I have to tell you, you don't need to defend John Watson's honour, the boy is more than capable of holding his own."

"But Mycroft, John is _mine_. Everyone knows that," Sherlock huffed.

"Fourteen years old and already acting possessive of a boy he met nine days ago, Honestly Sherlock, what have I told you about sentiment---"

"Oh, take your sentiment and shove it up your stuffy---"

"Okay, right, I think my job here is done," the officer said with a grimace. "I'm releasing you into the custody of your brother. Don't let me catch you or any of your friends loitering around the school playground at this time of night. You lot should be at home and safely in your rooms. Understand?"

"Yes, _Officer_ ," Sherlock replied with disdain.

"Sherlock, in the house and upstairs right now, and don't argue, or I'll confiscate your microscope," Mycroft threatened.

Sherlock's eyes widened with fear. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh yes I would. Now go."

Sherlock raced inside and upstairs like he was dashing for the finish line. Mycroft shook his head again and turned to look at the officer. "I'm truly sorry. I thought my brother was up in his room."

"Snuck out, did he?" the officer replied with a cheeky grin.

Mycroft couldn't help but notice how fit the young officer was. He had warm brown eyes, a bit of stubble on his face, which Mycroft felt was ruggedly handsome, and he had the most enticing smile. His police uniform, especially his shirt, strained underneath his muscles. _He looks so handsome in that uniform. I wonder what he looks out of it._

Mycroft began to feel warm, and his lower half began to stir. _No Mycroft Holmes, you are not getting an erection just by looking at this man. Besides, he's probably not even gay. Remember what you keep saying about sentiment. Don't give in to your baser instincts._

"Are you alright sir?" the officer asked with a little concern. "You're sweating. It is hot out here tonight, pretty unusual for May."

"Hmm? Oh yes, I'm fine, it is very warm. I never did well in heat." Mycroft struggled to keep his composure. There was a reason he was called "The Ice Man" at Oxford. Dear God, why did this man have to be so bloody gorgeous? 

The officer grinned again. "Name's Greg Lestrade. Nice place you have here."

Mycroft blinked. The officer was making small talk. He was trying to be friendly. But that was his job. There was no way he'd be interested like him, a stuffed shirt, as Sherlock loved to call him. He wasn't interested in normal activities. While others his age were out at the pubs, he preferred to stay home and read or play the piano.

"Uh yes, thank you very much. It is a nice place. Nice to meet you Officer Lestrade."

Greg continued to grin. "Call me Greg. I'll be off duty in half an hour."

Mycroft blushed. "Yes, Greg, well thank you for bringing my brother home in one piece. I'm afraid this infatuation with John Watson has caused him to behave out of turn."

"I wouldn't call it an infatuation. When I arrived on the scene, John explained that this Anderson fellow had caught him and your brother making out on the merry-go-round. Anderson started to make homophobic slurs and come on to John, and that's when Sherlock made the crack about this Donovan person, and Anderson punched him. No, it appears your brother and John are serious boyfriends." He smiled coyly at Mycroft. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Mycroft nearly choked on his saliva. "What? Me? Absolutely not! I mean...I don't have time for boyfriends. I'm too busy with university and my internship with Parliament."

"Parliament? Really? Wow." Greg licked his lips, and Mycroft felt himself harden even more. "That's too bad. Because like I said, I'm off duty in half an hour---well now, twenty-five minutes, and I thought after I typed up my report on your brother's altercation, you and I could go somewhere for a drink."

"I um, I'm not much of a pub person...they're not my style---"

"How about if I swing by and we could have a drink here, inside your home, after my shift ends? Would you feel more comfortable?" Greg asked.

"You're serious? You really want to see me outside of your job?" Mycroft said, stunned.

"Why not? You're not bad-looking, and I saw the way you eyed me in my uniform. Got a thing for the boys in blue?" Greg winked at him.

"No, never." Then Mycroft smiled just a bit. "Not until tonight anyway."

"Well then, let me get back to the station, then I'll be here before ten. Do you want me to stay in my uniform?"

"I'd think you'd look good in anything." Mycroft gasped and covered his mouth, realizing what he'd said. He was never one to flirt.

Greg laughed heartily. "Thanks for the compliment mate. I'll see you in a bit." Then he leaned in and pecked Mycroft on the cheek. "I think you're going to be a lot of fun." He winked at him again and turned to walk down the steps.

Mycroft just stood there, watching him leave, staring at his trousers that perfectly hugged his behind. Then he wondered what his parents would think about getting involved with a policeman. Well, at least they'd be safe."

He heard a chuckle from behind him, and he turned to see Sherlock, standing in the doorway with a huge smirk on his face. "All the nice boys like a copper," he teased.

"And this copper likes me," Mycroft murmured, before he broke out into a bright smile and walked past his brother back into the house to get ready for his date with the gorgeous man in blue.

 

 


	8. The Light of All Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John felt he was just a plain and ordinary person until one night changed his life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire Sherlock and Human John AU!  
> Title taken from a quote in Bram Stroker's Dracula. _“There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.”_

Day Eight - Bodily Fluids

 

London was abuzz with the news that the Crimson Ball was going to be held this Saturday night at the Holmes estate, Benediction. It was tradition that the wealthiest vampire families in the UK would hold these galas, where their unmated offspring would choose a human to turn and become their blood spouse once they reached an age the parents deemed appropriate for marriage.

Humans and vampires had co-existed peacefully for years. The vampires were created from a virus unleashed by a psychopathic scientist named Moriarty after the government had denied him a funding grant. Moriarty had turned himself into a vampire, but was killed by government snipers after his lab was firebombed and he burned to death. 

The virus was unusual in that it didn't affect certain citizens. One group of citizens who managed to remain human were The Watson family - father Henry, mother Elaine, and their children Harriet and John. It was determined that their blood contained a special antibody that prevented them from becoming a vampire through viral means, however, they could be turned if they were bitten in the traditional way. And the vampires could go out in daylight, but they still could be killed by fire, beheading, or a stab or bullet to the heart. 

This particular Crimson Ball was unique because only eligible unmarried young human men were invited. The young vampire who would choose his mate was not interested in women. So this meant that John Watson had to attend the ball.

The invite arrived in the Watson's mailbox the Monday before the ball:

 

 _Victoria and Siger Holmes cordially request_ _the presence of_

_John Hamish Watson_

_at their Crimson Ball_

_Saturday, June 24th, 7:00 p.m._

_on their esteemed estate, Benediction_

 

John kept staring at the invitation, printed on the finest royal purple card stock with its elegant black lettering. He never thought he'd be invited to a Crimson Ball. He wasn't frightened or agitated over it, because he knew the vampire would never choose him as a spouse. He was too plain, too ordinary, and came from a working-class family. The Holmes family was the wealthiest in London, and despite having to invite all young men of every background, he was sure the vampire would choose one of the most handsomest and wealthiest humans to be his spouse.

John's mother however, was worried. Her son did not think highly of himself, but she knew he was a gorgeous boy. He was golden-haired, golden-skinned, and had the deepest blue eyes in all of the city. She was sure he would be one of the top contenders for the young vampire.

The entire week leading up to the ball, she kept telling him "Please do not make yourself so presentable to this young vampire. You attract so many in the city John, and I don't want you to be turned. We would never see you again. I'm sure once this Holmes lad gets a hold of you, he will keep you locked up in that mansion, and away from us and all your friends."

John was still unperturbed. "Mom, there's nothing to worry about. I'm sure only the most good-looking and richest guy will be chosen. Nobody would want a short, poor kid like me with bruises and scars from rugby. I'll come home to you after the ball."

John's mother still wasn't convinced.

*****

The preparations for the ball were underway at Benediction. The huge hall, where the dance was to be held, was slowly being transformed into a gothic fantasy, a sea of purple and black, young Sherlock's favorite colors. Sherlock stood in the middle, directing workers on how he wanted things. 

Sherlock remembered the day he and his family became vampires. They were outside having a garden party when the strange green mist invaded the grounds, causing them all to feel lightheaded and nauseous. They woke up hours later feeling strange, not like themselves. When they looked in the mirror, they had grown fangs, their eyes were black as coal, and soon they developed the craving for blood. Their senses were heightened, they could hear sounds miles away, and they gained superhuman strength, Sherlock more so than the other family members. Eventually their eyes returned to normal, but when the hunger grew too ravenous, the orbs would turn black and their fangs longer and sharper. 

The government had created synthetic blood for vampires to feed on, but farmers in the area were paid handsomely to provide animal blood if a vampire wanted organic. Human prisoners were on a waiting list to be donors, as they would get reduced sentences if they allowed their blood to be taken and stored away for cravings for the taste of humans. 

Sherlock had adjusted to becoming a vampire very well. As a human he really had no need for other humans, and preferred isolation. As a vampire, he had a private tutor at home, and he spent his free time doing scientific experiments in the lab his parents had made for him, or roaming the grounds studying insects and bees. Bees were his favorite. He likened bees pollinating flowers to vampires taking blood. 

His older brother Mycroft came into the hall, with his spouse Gregory following him. When Mycroft turned the equivalent of twenty human years, he had his Crimson Ball where he chose Gregory Lestrade, a Detective Chief Inspector's son, to be his mate. Gregory was a handsome boy of eighteen when he was turned, and he was following in his father's footsteps to become a DCI. Many vampires served on the police force due to their heightened powers, which made catching criminals much easier.

"Everything is looking splendid brother mine," Mycroft praised. These colors will be perfect for the ball."

"Yes Mycroft, I think so too." Sherlock smiled at his brother-in-law. "Hello Greg."

"Hi Sherlock. Are you excited for Saturday?"

Sherlock snorted. "Hardly. I really don't want to get married, but since Mummy and Father are insisting, I have no choice. I just hope whomever I choose won't be boring."

"I thought you had it narrowed down already, to Victor Trevor or Sebastian Wilkes. I mean since you already know them personally and physically," Greg said.

"Just because I've had sex with them doesn't mean they're going to end up being my spouse, and Sebastian has told me that Culverton Smith already asked for his hand in marriage when his Crimson Ball occurs next month, but he still has to go through the dull tradition of inviting everyone and choosing them in public. And Victor is good to look at and good in bed, but he's too flighty."

"Sherlock, I do hope you will not be as---frank---Saturday night as you are with Gregory and I now," Mycroft chided.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his older brother. "Come now Mycroft, you know I've always been this way. Why stop now? And at least everyone will know what's expected of them. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got make sure the fairy lights are hung properly." And with that, he was off, his moves like a ballet dancer.

*****

John stared at himself in the mirror. His mother had stressed to him not to look so polished so he would be ignored, but his father and sister insisted he dress liked he came from royalty. Henry had used some of the savings to have him fitted for a posh suit. John chose a dark gray jacket with matching vest, trousers, a white shirt, and candy apple red silk tie, as red was his favorite color. His mother was horrified at red "It's the color of blood John, are you looking to be chosen?" but John dismissed her fears. "Mom, even with this monkey suit I won't be selected, so please stop worrying."

With his blond hair neatly combed in place and shining as brilliant as the sun and his skin polished to a soft warm glow, John was ready for his father to drive him to Benediction. He kissed his mother and sister goodbye and told them he would be home later that evening, and he loved them.

*****

John was in awe as he and his father pulled up to Benediction. 

It was a huge gothic style mansion, with a tall tower on the right. The front lawn was decorated with tiny lights, and contrasted with the darkening sky, it looked like something out of a fairy tale.

"This place is beautiful," John breathed. "Imagine living here."

"It is lovely. But your mother would be devastated if you were chosen to be this vampire's partner, no longer human."

John lowered his head. "I know Da. How do you feel?"

"Well son, I wouldn't like it, but if you are picked, you have no choice. But you would never want for anything anymore, and you would have so many options for your life."

"Can you imagine me being a vampire doctor?"

"Actually I can. You know there are many vampires practicing in London. You'd have no difficulty finding work. Vampires today are not like the ones we've read in books and seen in movies John. They drink fake blood, are no threat to humans, and just want to be accepted like everyone else. I hardly doubt you'd be imprisoned, with no free will of your own."

John started to feel a lot better. "Thanks Da for being so supportive. I love you."

"I love you too." He smiled at his son. "Now go, and have a good time. Know whatever happens, your mother and Harry and I will always be here for you."

John patted his father's hand. "Well, here goes nothing." He got out of the car and made his way towards the front of the mansion.

*****

John continued to be amazed as he stood inside the hall, dazzled by all the purple and black, and the fairy lights wrapped around the tall white columns that stood from ceiling to floor. There were many young men here, some he knew, mingling, drinking refreshments, and munching on appetizers.

John accepted a soda from one of the waiters walking around. He was a little too nervous to eat, so he stood near the entrance, sipping his Coke. 

A tall, well-built blond with dark green eyes approached John. "Hello."

"Hi," John said shyly.

"So, do you think you'll have a chance being chosen as Sherlock's eternal mate?" he asked, a little snottily.

"Hell no. Look at this place. I'm sure he'll pick someone with status, not the son of a security guard. And my mother would be heartbroken if I was chosen. No, I'll drink a few sodas, munch on some snacks, and then watch to see who'll the lucky guy will be," John breezily replied.

The other man laughed and held out his hand. "Victor Trevor."

John shook it. "John Watson. So, do you know this Sherlock personally?"

Victor smirked. "Most definitely. Sherlock is not the easiest vampire to hang around with. He bores easily, and prefers staying in his lab all day conducting his weird experiments than being out and socializing."

"Well that doesn't sound so bad. If he prefers to work in his lab, that means whomever he chooses can pretty much be left alone to do what they want. That would suit me just fine."

"You don't look like the type to stomach blood," Victor sneered.

John frowned. He didn't like this guy's tone. "There's no need to be a dick. You sound like you really want to be Sherlock's husband. You don't have any competition from me, so drop the attitude."

Victor just huffed and walked away. John shook his head. _What an arse, he thought. No wonder Sherlock prefers to be alone if he's friends with someone like that._

He heard someone chuckle from behind him. "That Victor is quite a prat. He thinks he has this in the bag."

John turned around to see a boy his age, a little taller and chubbier, with short brown hair, glasses, and a friendly open face. "Hi there, I'm Mike Stamford."

"John Watson, and yeah, he was a prat. But I'm over it." 

The two shook hands. "Some party eh?" Mike asked, a twinkle in his eye.

John nodded. "Yeah. I'm not used to all this pomp and circumstance. It's like that reality show where the guy chooses a woman from a group to be his wife."

Mike laughed. "But with that show, everyone is human."

"Do you think you'd like being a vampire, that is, if you're picked?" John asked.

"Oh I don't know, but I'll never have to find out. I've seen Sherlock and he looks like he came straight out of a modeling shoot. He definitely wouldn't choose a chubster like me who wears glasses. But it will be interesting to see who he does choose."

"Well it won't be me either. I'm too poor."

"You sure about that? You're very good-looking and I hear he's partial to blonds." Mike shot John a knowing glance.

"I'm sure. Who'd want me for a vampire husband?"

*****

John had just polished off some crab balls and drank his third Coke when he heard music begin to play. It was a violin piece he'd never heard of. It was very haunting and seductive. Whoever was playing it sure was talented. 

The music stopped, and black curtains that were at the front of the hall parted to reveal a stage, with purple tulle and fairy lights wrapped around two more columns on either side. Sitting on two throne-like chairs were Victoria and Siger Holmes, looking austere in all black, but they were smiling happily. Standing next to Victoria were Mycroft Holmes and his husband, Gregory. 

Victoria stood and moved closer to the audience, most of whom had moved closer to the stage. "Good evening everyone. We welcome you to our second Crimson Ball. Several years ago, our eldest son Mycroft chose Gregory Lestrade to be his forever beloved out of hundreds. Tonight, our youngest son Sherlock will choose his eternal mate out of all of you. To become a member of the Holmes clan is indeed special. You will be cherished, revered, and well-cared for, if Sherlock selects you. So without further adieu, I present to you, my beautiful son, William Sherlock Scott Holmes!"

There was applause, and John put his hands together half-heartedly. He couldn't believe the hype over all of this. Still, he was a bit enthralled.

Sherlock appeared from the side, and as soon as he was in sight, there were loud gasps and John could hear some of the guests actually moaning. John had to admit he was gorgeous.

Sherlock had short, dark wavy hair, pale skin that practically glowed under the soft lights, and full lips. He was tall and lean, but fit. The perfect vision of a sexy, modern vampire like the ones John saw in horror films. Instead of wearing a cape, he had on a black pinstripe suit, vest and trousers with a white button down that showed off his long, elegant neck.

But John could tell he looked quite bored with it all. He would too. This was not the way someone should find their forever love.

"Hello," Sherlock greeted, and there were more gasps and moans. Even John's eyes widened at hearing that velvety rich baritone.

"No doubt you are all here to parade yourselves in this honestly ridiculous contest to see who will become my vampire husband. But since this tradition, the show must go own, as they say. But be warned...whomever I choose will not be boring." So continue to go on enjoying the free food and drinks."

John saw his family member's reactions. Mycroft shook his head, Gregory was grinning like a loon, and his mother and father actually did a double facepalm! John giggled. Apparently they were used to their son's brutal honesty.

"He doesn't mince words, does he?" Mike said, coming to stand beside John.

"No he doesn't. I feel for the person who has to be with him for eternity," John replied with a laugh.

"Well, I should probably just leave now," Mike said.

"Yeah, me too," John agreed, but he still looked forward to sneak a peek at Sherlock, who was already corralled by Victor Trevor, who placed both hands on his shoulders, massaging him.

"Looks like Victor's trying to sell himself hard," John murmured to himself. "I think being poor sometimes has its benefits."

*****

Sherlock was desperately trying to tune out Victor's dull drone. His friend and sometimes lover thought he had this husband thing in the bag, but he was severely mistaken. Victor was a flake and he wasn't going to deal with his holier-than-thou attitude for immortality. He turned his head to scan the crowd to scope out the other potential candidates---and found himself gazing intensely at a short, impossibly blond and beautiful young man wearing a distinguished gray suit and red tie. The tie stood out among the black and purple, and Sherlock thought this was the most gorgeous boy he'd ever laid eyes on. The blond was talking with a taller, chubbier boy with glasses and the two seemed to be at ease with each other. Sherlock had to meet him.

"Excuse me Victor, but I see someone in this hall that actually looks interesting." Sherlock said haughtily.

Victor followed Sherlock's gaze and when he saw he was staring at John, he snorted. "You can't be serious! I talked to him earlier! He's nothing, he comes from a poor family. You can't pick him to be your husband. He doesn't have the proper breeding!"

"Oh stuff it Victor. He's a human, not a dog. And I don't care if he's rich or poor. He's gorgeous. Goodbye." And just like that, Sherlock tore away from Victor, who stood there in disbelief. No, he was not going to be at Sherlock's side after the ball came to an end.

*****

"John, look who's coming this way," Mike whispered to him.

John saw Sherlock heading towards him and Mike. "No way Mike. He's not coming over to to talk to us."

"You mean talk to you. He's looking at you like he wants to devour you."

"That's what I'm afraid of!"

But it was too late to make an escape. Sherlock was standing in front of John, his intense gaze back. "Hello," he rumbled.

"Uh, hi." John's voice nearly squeaked.

Sherlock chuckled. "I couldn't help but notice you. You're very distinctive."

John nearly fell down. He was told a lot of things by a lot of people, but distinctive was a first. "Well, um, thank you."

A large, elegant hand appeared in front of John. "Sherlock Holmes."

John politely took it. Sherlock felt surprisingly warm. He was sure he'd be cold to the touch. "John Watson."

"Mmm, I like your name."

"Thank you again."

Mike started to back away. "John, I think it's time for me to head home. Good luck!" Before John could say goodbye, he was lost in the sea of bodies.

"How are you enjoying the ball so far?" Sherlock asked.

"It's good." John looked down at the floor. _I am capable of a conversation,_ he thought, a little embarrassed. He glanced back up to see Sherlock's amused face. "I mean, I've never been to anything like this in my life. My family...we're not as well off as yours. I'm very poor and very ordinary."

"Oh, you're far from ordinary John. I could see something special in you the first time I laid eyes on you." Sherlock continued to gaze intensely at him, and John swore the man could see right into his very soul.

"Will you dance with me?" Sherlock asked.

John should have said no, remembering his mother's worrisome words. Then he heard his father's. 

_You would never want for anything anymore, and you would have so many options for your life...vampires today are not like the ones we've read in books and seen in movies John. They drink fake blood, are no threat to humans, and just want to be accepted like everyone else. I hardly doubt you'd be imprisoned, with no free will of your own..._

Maybe after this dance, Sherlock would get bored and want to talk with other guests, see who else would be a good match for him. He wouldn't choose John after a bit of small talk and one dance. What would it hurt?

"Yes, I will dance with you," John found himself saying.

Sherlock took John's hand and gently walked him to the center of the floor. Many guests saw the young vampire with John and moved to give them room. Some of the men were visibly jealous.

There was a spotlight on the two. John could feel tons of eyes on him, and he started to get a little intimidated.

"Relax John, relax. Forget about everyone else around you. Look into my eyes. It's only you and me," Sherlock softly spoke, as if trying to put John in a trance. "Focus on just the two of us." He peered into John's dark blue eyes, and he could feel his heart start to stir. Warm tingles coursed throughout his body. He'd never had these feelings before, not even when in bed with Victor and Sebastian. It was if the sun itself had taken hold of John's body, and was radiating warmth and light all over Sherlock.

The music began. It was a somewhat slow song with a haunting piano and light trap beat. A woman's soft, breathy voice started singing:

_So you stand with hard lines_

_Your cold eyes are watching me_

_Start to change_

_There's no words left to say_

_And I don't wanna stay_

_And you're so clever with desire_

_And I'm so tired of resisting you_

_So maybe I should try to hide_

_The way I feel_

_And I conceal it from you_

Sherlock's eyes bore into John's. Under the purple glow, John could see they appeared to almost be black. John knew black eyes on a vampire meant hunger or lust. He could feel Sherlock's arms wrap around him tighter, pulling him close to his chest, and John was soon caught up in the slow, seductive melody and voice of the song as the chorus started.

  _Don't stop me now_

_I'm coming undone_

_I'm coming undone ooh ooh_

_Don't stop me now_

_I'm coming undone_

_I'm coming undone ooh-ooh..._

Sherlock's face was so close, John felt their lips were almost touching. Was this what the vampire wanted? To kiss John? Because at this moment, if Sherlock were to kiss him, John wouldn't resist. Would it be like this all the time as a vampire's mate? John was beginning to feel it wouldn't be so bad, living as an immortal, always knowing someone would be by your side forever. Sure, there'd be no more burgers, or fish and chips, or beers with his friends at the pub, but he'd still be able to walk in the daylight. He could go to medical school. He could still see his family. He wouldn't have to kill anyone. 

"John," Sherlock murmured thickly. "Can you feel it? The electricity between us? I'm becoming so attracted to you. You're so beautiful. There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights. You can be my conductor of that light. Please say you'll be mine forever."

John was rendered speechless. It was happening. What John believe would never happen. Sherlock wanted him as his spouse, his vampire lover. He thought of his mother and the look on her face. She'd be heartbroken, losing her only son to a vampire. But deep down, John knew that everything would be okay. There was nothing to fear. 

In this instant, he'd made his decision. He was going to stay with Sherlock forever.

"Yes," John whispered breathily. "Yes, I'll be yours...forever."

Sherlock smiled happily and he gently pressed his lips to John's, ignoring the gasps from the crowd and the murmurs. He didn't care about anyone else right but John, his beautiful, brilliant John.

*****

Sherlock had announced his choice to a pleased Victoria, Siger, Mycroft and Greg. John's mind was in a whirl, still not believing he would soon be turned, and wed to Sherlock. He'd have to face his family, and feared the reaction of his mother, but he knew this was a good thing. It was what he wanted.

*****

John's mother sobbed as she saw her son standing with Sherlock, upset at the news John would be leaving his home to live forever with Sherlock at his mansion. His father was stoic but John could tell he was happy, and Harriet was over the moon.

"Mom, it'll be okay. Sherlock isn't going to keep me imprisoned in the mansion. I'm still going to have a life. Please don't cry," John reassured.

"Mrs. Watson, I'm never going to hurt John. When I first saw him, I knew he was the one for me. He's going to go to medical school. He's going to come and visit you often. I'm going to give him a good life," Sherlock vowed.

Mrs. Watson peered at Sherlock through teary eyes. "You promise? You're going to let him go to medical school? You're going to let him be a doctor?" she sniffled.

"Of course. "Father has already contacted several universities. John's marks are good enough that he will get into one of them. He and Mummy are thrilled they'll have a doctor for a son-in-law."

He smiled gently at her. "And I don't always drink blood you know. I love to have tea every now and then."

Mrs. Watson now looked hopeful and relieved. "Tea? You drink tea?" She laughed. "That's a relief."

Mr. Watson chuckled and Harriet beamed at her brother. "You did good Johnny. It's gonna suck that you'll be outliving me."

"Something I can lord over you for a change," John teased.

*****

The wedding was a grand and lovely affair, held outside on the back grounds of Benediction. John only had one request for the wedding, that the lights he saw on the front lawn the night of the Crimson Ball were used for his and Sherlock's ceremony.

Sherlock insisted John wear the same suit he wore at the ball, and John was more than happy to, since he didn't have to go through another fitting. Sherlock wore a black fitted suit with a purple shirt and no tie. He had a few buttons undone so his lovely neck was exposed. John couldn't wait to suck on it later.

Their first dance was the song they danced to at the ball, and after it ended, Sherlock gave John a passionate kiss that nearly took his breath away.

*****

Sherlock had taken John to the tower. "No one can hear us up here. We can be as loud as we want, and I want to hear you John. I want to hear you when I'm inside you. I want to hear you when I sink my fangs into your gorgeous neck for the first time. Don't be quiet my love."

Sherlock slowly began to strip John out of his suit. John shuddered as Sherlock's long hands removed his jacket and let it fall to the floor with a rustle. Sherlock's eyes turned jet black as he unbuttoned his vest, then worked on the buttons of his shirt. John wanted him to go faster, but he knew his husband wanted to savor the entire moment of undressing him.

Sherlock soon was at his belt buckle, and John's cock twitched as Sherlock pulled it out of the loops. He put it between his teeth, and oh what a sexy and ravishing sight he was with John's belt in his mouth.

Sherlock undid the zippers on the trousers, and John moved his hands so he could pull them down himself. Sherlock smirked when he saw John had on tight red pants, and he took one of his hands and began palming John through his trousers, smirking even more when he saw John's erection grow.

John sat down on the bed and took off his shoes and socks, and freed the trousers that were bunched around his ankles, shoving them aside. He lay on the bed, panting, his cock twitching and aching with want.

"Sherlock...please...I need you to touch me," John whined.

Sherlock tore the belt from his mouth and tossed it behind his shoulder. John nearly came at that sight. Sherlock quickly removed his clothes and John grinned when he saw Sherlock was wearing dark purple boxer briefs, his own erection tenting the fabric. John could see Sherlock's cock was a good length.

Sherlock removed his pants, and John took in the magnificent sight of his cock. He marveled at how Sherlock could have had anyone here in this room tonight, but he chose John. John realized he was not ordinary. He was special, special enough to have someone as beautiful and intelligent and charming as Sherlock to love him. And John loved him back just as much.

Sherlock bent down and began to take off John's pants. John lifted his hips, and soon Sherlock had them off, also tossing them behind his shoulder. He began to pepper John's torso with kisses, taking special interest in his rugby scars. John moaned and leaned into his warm mouth. "Sherlock...that feels so good," he breathed.

Sherlock grinned and soon his mouth was latched onto his right nipple, licking at the hardening bud. John moaned and his hips thrust up towards Sherlock's cock. "Please, I need you...need you inside me."

"All in good time husband," Sherlock replied thickly. "Let me enjoy your golden skin for now."

Sherlock continued to lick, suck, and kiss John's nipples, his chest, and he nipped oh-so-gently at his neck. John moaned again, and Sherlock knew he'd never grow tired of hearing John make that sound.

Sherlock moved down farther, his mouth and nose right on John's cock. It was a beautiful, shorter than his but wider and thicker, and it was growing red, engorged with lust and need. Sherlock opened his mouth, careful not to let his fangs descend, and he enveloped the hot, moist heat, sucking him with everything he had, trying not to come himself when he heard John moan above him. "Suck me harder, oh god please," John groaned.

Sherlock complied, and John was thrusting in his mouth. Seconds later, John shouted and came in Sherlock's mouth, who quickly swallowed the hot semen, salty taste and all. Sherlock removed his mouth with a pop, and went to the drawer by the bed to grab a bottle of lube.

Sherlock poured the cool liquid into his hand, then began to gently and slowly work John's entrance open, first with one finger. John bucked and groaned at the finger opening his hole. 

"So impatient husband. This will take time. I don't want to hurt you when I slide my cock in you. I want this to feel amazing," Sherlock said. 

He continued scissoring John with one finger, and he loosened up enough for him to add a second. John moaned again, and little by little he was open to the point that Sherlock added a third finger. "Christ! " John yelled. "I think I'm ready...please, please put your cock in me now."

Sherlock removed his fingers and grabbed the lube, spreading in onto his hard, throbbing cock. He reached for a pillow and put it under John's hips. Then using his other hand, he took hold of his cock and tenderly entered John, who let out a long moan at finally having his husband inside him.

Sherlock continued to fully seat himself inside John. Then he began to slowly thrust in and out of John. "Yessss," John hissed. "Feels so good...love you so much."

"I love you too," Sherlock whispered, moaning at how good and tight John's hole felt as he continued to thrust. "It's never been this good."

John sat up, hooking his legs around Sherlock's waist so he could feel the intensity of Sherlock's thrusts, placing both hands on his back. "Harder, harder oh God please," he moaned.

Sherlock began to move faster inside John, grunting and groaning with each thrust. John felt spectacular, and the nails digging into his flesh intensified the pleasure. "Yes John, yes my husband, my love, I'm so close. I'm going to come inside you and bite your neck, turning you into a vampire, making you mine forever."

"Do it," John whispered. "Make me yours." He pulled him even closer.

Sherlock thrusted even faster now, slamming into John, hitting his prostrate. John literally screamed, beginning to see stars. Sherlock knew in a matter of seconds he would be gone as well, and it wasn't long before he came, white hot ribbons exploding inside his husband's taut hole. Sherlock's fangs descended, and he sank into John's tanned and tender neck. John screamed again, and Sherlock held onto him tightly, savoring the sweet, sweet blood flowing into his mouth, sucking noisily. John moaned, and came violently all over Sherlock's stomach. Sherlock ignored the hot liquid that spurted on to him, still taking John's blood. 

Finally, Sherlock released John and collapsed on top of him, wiping his mouth that stained crimson red. John lay back, panting hard, the pain of Sherlock's fangs starting to recede. "Good God that was amazing. I've never felt anything like that in my life," he said, breathing heavy.

"It was extraordinary," Sherlock conceded. "You felt so good John. It's going to be like this always."

"When will I start to feel the effects of your bite?" John asked.

"Starting within a few hours. You'll fall into a deep sleep as your body will need plenty of rest to adjust to all the changes."

"Well then, I think I need to clean off before that happens. Come shower with me?" John said, getting up.

"Anything for you love," Sherlock replied, following his husband to the shower...and following him into a exciting and wondrous new life as immortal true loves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John & Sherlock's Song - [Coming Undone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jK0uaJJqtGg) by Jony Lipsey


	9. Just Like the Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overworked Molly becomes trapped after hours in an extremely cold air-conditioned lab at St. Bart's. She finds that someone else is also trapped with her, and they must keep warm...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the old "locked in a very cold place and must preserve heat by engaging in sexual activity" trope, but my first time writing it!
> 
> Takes place six months after Series Four.

Day Nine - Hot or Cold

 

"Sherlock, I'm not in the mood for your sarcastic comments this afternoon. I'm extremely busy. Three more bodies have come in thanks to the Regent's Park Slasher, and their autopsies take precedence over your desire for feet right now. So if you don't mind, out! Go get John and find a place to snog him," Molly ordered.

"But Molly, John and I already shagged before I came here," Sherlock nonchalantly explained. "Don't take out your sexual frustrations on me since you aren't getting any at the moment."

Molly glared icily at him. "Sherlock, would you like to go through another fall?"

Sherlock blinked, mouth tight. Molly smirked. "That's what I thought. Now LEAVE!" she yelled.

Sherlock huffed and left the forensic lab, slamming the door hard behind him. Molly sighed and shook her head. The last thing she needed on top of a grisly serial killer case was a sulking petulant consulting detective who felt everyone should drop their work and cater to him. 

Since the devastating events with Sherlock's insane sister Eurus, she decided to throw herself into her work. Once she realized the tall, handsome genius could only love her as a platonic friend, she gave up all notions of pursuing him. He and John had admitted their long-buried feelings for each other, and were back living together at Baker Street, raising Rosie. She was happy for them. They were coming to terms with all that happened quite nicely.

She just wished she could find someone to love her romantically. Or even a friend with benefits. She just needed to get _laid._

*****

It was almost midnight, and Molly was still hard at work in the lab. She'd noticed the temperature had gotten a little colder, but it was always cold due to storing bodies and body parts. She pulled her lab coat tighter around her and continued to collect tissue samples from the third body that was brought in. The Regent's Park Slasher was targeting elderly women. Sherlock deduced it was a middle-aged man taking out hidden rage on his mother by transferring it to his victims, and that he was stuck in an unsatisfying office position somewhere in London. So while he and the Yard were trying to locate a killer, Molly was with the bodies.

Several times she tried not to cry as she poked, prodded, and cut into these unfortunate women whose only crime was reminding a psychopath of seething anger making its way to the surface. But she had to be clinical and objective. 

Molly realized she needed a chemical that wasn't in the lab, so she walked down the hall to another lab where it was housed.

She opened the door with her badge and stepped inside. This room was even colder. Something must be going wrong with the climate controls. It had been hot out for the past few weeks, and St. Bart's air conditioning system was working overtime trying to keep the buildings cool.

Just as Molly reached for the chemical she needed, she heard the door open behind her, startling her.

"Oh Molly, I'm sorry, did I scare you?" a familiar male voice called out.

Molly turned and smiled when she saw Greg Lestrade, putting his temporary St. Bart's badge in his pocket. "Hi Greg. I didn't think anyone else was here this time of night."

"I came to see how you were. The security guard told me you were down here. Sherlock called me and said you weren't yourself. You were being short and brusque. He was concerned and asked me to come down."

Molly was taken aback somewhat. "He was?"

"Yeah. He would have been here, but Rosie came down with a fever so he and John are home caring for her."

"Poor baby, getting a fever when it's so hot outside," Molly lamented.

 Greg nodded, shivering. "What's up with the A/C in this place? It's colder than it usually is!"

"I think it's working more trying to keep the place cool thanks to the heatwave." Molly smiled at her friend and colleague. "I won't be here long. I just needed some ninhydrin for some fingerprint checking and then I'm headed for home and my lovely bed. You're welcome to hang out, I could use the company."

Molly started to head for the door, but all of a sudden it automatically slammed shut. "Oh no," she said dreadfully. 

"What's going on?" Greg asked.

An alarm started to sound. Molly's face blanched. "It's the alarm that sounds when something systemwise isn't working properly."

"Maybe it's the air conditioning," Greg surmised. "But why lock us in?"

"General precaution. I can call security to see what's happening," Molly said, pulling her cell out of her lab coat pocket. She dialed the extension. Seconds later, a male voice answered. "Security, Leon."

"Hi Leon, it's Doctor Hooper."

"Oh hello Doctor Hooper. You still here?"

"Yes. And DI Lestrade is with me as well. Listen, do you know what's going on?"

"Air conditioning's gone haywire. I've called facilities and they'll be here in an about an hour, as well as the alarm company."

Molly's face fell. "An hour? But Greg and I are locked in one of the labs in the forensics wing, and it's very cold in here. Can you get us out?"

"I would, but I'm locked in the security room and only the alarm company can let us out. I'm sorry Doctor Hooper," Leon replied regretfully.

"Okay, thank you Leon." Molly hung up her phone and gazed sadly at Greg. "Looks like we're going to be here awhile in this freezing lab, I hope we don't get frostbite." She started to shiver.

Greg removed his suit jacket and draped it over Molly's shoulder. "Here."

Molly shook her head. "No Greg, keep it on. You're going to need it."

"No, I'm okay, promise. You're a lot thinner, you'll get colder quicker." 

"Thanks." Molly smiled at him. "How are you going to keep warm?"

"Rub my hands together and run around the room," Greg joked.

"Be serious!" Molly lightly admonished, pulling Greg's jacket tighter to her body. She could smell traces of something musky---cologne maybe? Whatever it was, it smelled good, comforting. 

She looked at Greg again, who had his arms crossed in front of his chest, and couldn't help but think of how good-looking he was. Greg had always treated her nicely, and she would always remember the look on his face when she appeared at Sherlock and John's Christmas party. _Why didn't I go after him instead? Why did I waste seven years falling over backwards for a man that would never return my affections---and is actually gay? Why is my perception so cloudy?_

"Molly," Greg called to her softly. "You okay? You're shivering more and more now."

Molly couldn't tell if it was the cold, or her feelings causing the movement. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Greg moved closer, and Molly shivered even more. Now she knew it wasn't the cold this time. "You need to keep warm." And with that, he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back. "We need to preserve as much body heat as possible."

Molly went stiff as a board as Greg began to rub her. His embrace definitely felt good. She wondered for a brief second how it would feel to always have his arms around her.

"You know," she slowly began, "usually in the movies, these situations lead to a very awkward and compromising position." Then she blushed. She'd never been so forward like this in all her life, even during her brief engagement to Tom.

Greg was looking at her very coyly. "I know. Are you proposing we conserve body heat another way? I won't mind. I've always thought you were cute and sweet."

Molly blushed even harder this time. "Really?" she squeaked. "Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have chased after Sherlock like I have for all these years..." Her voice trailed off and she looked down at the floor.

"You were in love with Sherlock. Then you got engaged, and when that broke up, you went right back to pursuing Sherlock. He's a gorgeous bloke. I didn't think I'd stand a chance."

"I've been a fool. A blind and stupid fool. And Sherlock's gay on top of it all!" Molly collapsed into giggles, and Greg was laughing with her. She relaxed in his arms. "Well, what do you suggest? I don't think I'm ready for anything really past kissing. Or a few gropes."

"Kissing and a few gropes is fine." Greg leaned in and his lips tenderly met the pathologist's. Molly hummed at the soft feeling of skin on skin.

The kiss deepened, and when Molly's mouth parted, Greg let his tongue slip inside just a little. Molly moaned, which Greg took as a sign to continue. Soon, the two were exchanging the most hot, open kiss they've ever had.

Greg's hands moved from Molly's back to the collar of her lab coat. He gazed down at her blouse and saw her chest rising and falling heavily, her breaths coming staccato. He tentatively placed a hand on top of her chest. 

Molly grinned at him. "You can cop a feel, I don't mind. I've been aching for someone to touch me for quite a while now."

Greg smiled broadly and slipped his hand inside her blouse. She shuddered because his hand was cold to the touch, but quickly warmed up as Greg reached down inside the cups of her lacy pink bra and began to caress one of her breasts. "You feel lovely Molly, so lovely," he murmured.

Molly kissed him, placing her hands on his hips as he continued to fondle her breasts, enjoying the heat of his fingers and palms. She could feel the lower half of her body start to stir, and as Greg's hand moved all over her chest, a growing wetness started to spread in her underwear.

"Greg," she breathed, "if you continue touching me like this, I will have an orgasm. And I think we should save that for a time when we're not in a lab waiting for a bunch of people to come and let us out."

"Yeah, coming in an ice-cold lab isn't really that sexy. More of me touching you and _I'll come_. And I'm good and warm now." Greg kissed her again and removed his hand. Molly winced a little at the disappearance of warmth, but she pulled him close to her and they continued to embrace.

"You know Molly, I think this could be the beginning of a very nice romance," Greg mused, a cheeky grin on his lips.

"I think I'd like that. A nice romance with a handsome copper," Molly replied, planting a kiss on his neck.

Twenty minutes later, the lab door was finally unlocked, and the alarm crew were treated to a lovely sight of a cop and a pathologist canoodling in the middle of the room. "Just like in the movies," one of the men said, holding back a laugh.

 

 

 


	10. The Sign of Threesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and John are happily married but their marriage is an open one, as they allow Sherlock to come and play with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary, John, and Sherlock had so much chemistry in The Sign of Three, so why not throw them together for some sexy consensual times with each other? Not canon compliant, so Mary is a nurse, not an assassin, and not pregnant.

Day Eleven - Spanking

 

The doorbell rang, and Mary opened it up to see Sherlock, looking very fetching in a pale blue T-shirt and tight dark jeans. "Hi Sherlock. You look so different out of those expensive suits," she said.

"Well, you did say casual, considering I won't be in those clothes for long," Sherlock replied, a devious grin on his handsome face.

Mary chuckled. "Yes, I did say that. Come on in. John's in the kitchen making tea."

Sherlock entered the Watson's cozy flat, a stark contrast from his at 221 B Baker Street. For starters, there were no skulls being used as decorations, and it was a lot brighter and cheerful looking. Mary had chosen the paint colors, but John picked out the furniture. It was a perfect combination of the couple, who'd been married for three years now.

Sherlock followed Mary into the kitchen, and upon seeing John, his breath hitched and his chest began to flutter. John always made him feel like that. He'd been devastated when John met Mary at a medical conference in Cardiff and the two started dating, but he only had himself to blame. John had tried to ask him out a few days after they met but Sherlock rebuffed him. Just when Sherlock stopped being an idiot and discovered his feelings for John, he had moved on with Mary. 

Mary however, was a very unconventional woman. She'd realized quickly that Sherlock was in love with John, and John still had a lingering attraction to Sherlock. It was her that proposed an open marriage after John asked her to marry him. The two men were in shock at first after hearing Mary's suggestion that every now and then they would do a threesome. Mary explained she was part of a threesome while at university, and it made her feel liberating. She was sure it would be the same for the two of them. 

So for three years, one Friday or Saturday night a month, Sherlock, Mary, and John would meet up, either at their flat, Sherlock's flat, or sometimes a hotel, to indulge in their fantasies. 

Tonight was going to be different though. They had never experimented with any BDSM, it was just typical sex. But Sherlock wanted to spice things up after his last client, a dominatrix named Irene Adler, introduced him to it. Sherlock wouldn't let Irene do anything to him, but she invited him to a session, and he became intrigued. But tonight, they were just going to do spanking. Mary and John weren't comfortable with anything else yet, and Sherlock didn't want to jeopardize the special relationship he had with the Watsons.

Sherlock had brought a bag with him that contained a riding crop and a paddle, gifts courtesy of Irene. He set the bag on the kitchen table as he sat down. John put a steaming mug in front of him, and one in front of his wife. "Hi Sherlock," he greeted him. "What's in the bag?"

"Items I'm going to use on you tonight," Sherlock answered, smiling at John. His body quivered at the thought of smacking John's beautiful, golden arse.

John felt a shudder run through him. He lived for these once-a-month meetups. He loved Mary deeply, but he also loved the danger and the thrill of having Sherlock in the mix to make their relationship even more exciting than it was. And he knew Mary enjoyed it too, as she also craved excitement. 

"Ooh, I can't wait," Mary said happily before taking a sip of her tea. I'm tingly all over."

*****

The three had retreated to the bedroom. John was wearing nothing but a pair of leather speedos that Mary had bought for him on a BDSM website. Sherlock's eyes had bulged out at the sight of his handsome, fit, and tanned best friend with benefits in his tight and shiny black underwear. He wanted to grab him, throw him on the bed, and ravage him right then a there, but he remained in control. Mary had on a black leather bra and thong, and Sherlock was in his tightest pair of black boxer briefs, his cock already strained against the fabric.

"Why don't we start with some light stuff first before we go right to the spanking," John suggested. "Let's get warm and loosened up."

"Fine by me," Sherlock replied, eager to take his blogger in his arms. Mary nodded. "Go ahead Sherlock, I know you've been waiting so long to ravish my husband."

Even after everything they've done together, John still couldn't help but blush when Sherlock quickly scooped him up, peppering kisses all over his face and neck. "I love you so much John, and I love Mary for letting me do this with you, he said, voice thick with arousal.

Mary grinned at the sight of her husband and her friend. She harbored no jealousy towards John and Sherlock's relationship. She knew Sherlock had him once a month, but John was hers the rest of the time. Sherlock needed this. It kept him healthy, it kept him sane, and it kept him away from the cocaine and morphine he had nearly overdosed on in the past. John would be devastated if Sherlock turned back to drugs. To keep her husband and his best friend content---and alive---she'd do anything.

John broke away from Sherlock and went to Mary, embracing her and passionately kissing her. Mary melted into John's warm touch, moaning when his tongue met hers. They had a terrific sex life, John was an attentive and energetic lover, but the time with Sherlock made him even more electric. 

John unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. John loved Mary's small, perky breasts, and she arched back to allow his mouth access to them. "John," she moaned as hot lips enveloped her nipples.

Sherlock reached inside his pants and began to stroke his cock. He was gay, but seeing John lick and suck Mary's breasts turned him on big time, and he started to imagine John's mouth all over his chest. "Unnnnngh," he groaned, stroking himself faster and faster.

When Mary let out a loud high-pitched squeal after John placed his tongue in her belly button, Sherlock shouted and came hard, soaking his pants. He stripped them off and headed for the bathroom to clean up. John and Mary had parted and were laying on the bed. "Hurry back Sherlock," Mary said. "John and I are ready to be spanked."

Sherlock was back in under a minute. He was completely nude, cock still hard. John ogled his pale, lean body. The man was a god, and he couldn't wait for him to start putting his hands all over his body.

Sherlock took the riding crop and paddle out of the bag. Mary and John had eager looks on their faces. Sherlock headed for the couple. "Who wants to go first?"

"Let John go. I'll just have a good time watching you smack my husband's gorgeous behind." She giggled and scooted up towards the headboard.

"What would you like me to use first?" Sherlock asked.

"The riding crop," John answered. 

"Excellent choice." Sherlock smiled and moved towards John. "Take your pants off."

John did as he was told, and he sighed as cool air hit his cock. Sherlock grinned at seeing how hard it was. "Turn over and lay on the bed."

John obeyed, hissing as his cock brushed against the bedspread, fighting the desire to rut.

Sherlock took the riding crop and began to gently massage John's rear, moving the leather tip up and down on each cheek, before moving to the crack. John moaned at that. Sherlock repeated the act several times.

Mary was watching, her hand inside her panties, fingering herself slowly. 

Sherlock began to lightly smack John on the left cheek with the crop. "Harder," John urged.

Sherlock complied, smacking John with more force, redness beginning to form on his bronzed skin. Then he switched the other cheek, John was squirming and moaning. Mary continued to finger herself, letting out little moans of her own. Finally it was too much for her and she brought herself to orgasm with a cry. John also came, a wet patch forming on the bedspread. 

Sherlock let his hands and arms rest, letting out a loud breath. John turned over, breathless. "That was something else. I need a little break to recover. Sher, go play with Mary for a bit and then I'll be ready for another round."

Women were not Sherlock's area, but he made an exception for Mary. Mary was John's, so the few times he did have sex with Mary, he told himself it was an extension of John. 

Mary by now was completely naked, and she moved to the side so her butt was on the edge of the bed. She spread her legs for Sherlock. "I'm so wet, just fuck me," she murmured. Sex with Sherlock was rough and quick as she knew he really didn't enjoy being with a woman, but it had always felt good when they did it.

Mary groaned obscenely when Sherlock began to enter her. Sherlock had to admit she felt amazing, and he groaned as he sunk his long cock inside her wet heat and started to thrust. "Yes, god yes," Mary cried out.

John was drinking water in the kitchen when he heard his wife's cries and moans. John knew Sherlock thought of him when he shagged Mary, and he was rapidly beginning to harden again. He put down his glass, sat in one of the kitchen chairs, wrapped a hand around his cock, and started stroking himself. 

He could hear flesh slapping together, and combined with Mary's moans and Sherlock's primal grunts, he knew one of them was going to climax soon, and he wanted to see the finish. He stood up, rushing to the bedroom, hand still on his cock, and stood there in the doorway, eyes wide with lust as he saw his best friend fuck the hell out of his wife on their bed. Mary knew Sherlock thought of him while he shagged Mary.

"Faster! Deeper! Harder! Please oh god please!" Mary hollered as she squealed and moved to meet Sherlock's hard, quick thrusts. "I'm almost there!"

John stroked himself in time with Sherlock sliding in and out of his wife. The taller man's body was glistening from sweat, his dark curls matted. John thought he was beautiful, and Mary was a lovely vision of debauchery as she continued to moan and beg Sherlock to fuck her into the mattress.

Sherlock suddenly stopped and looked up at John, who was furiously masturbating. He could tell John was about to come, and the sight of him was all he needed to be driven over the edge. He pulled himself halfway out of Mary, who was whimpering to have him back inside her. He grinned madly and bucked his hips, slamming his cock hard back inside. Mary screamed, feeling sweet release, and Sherlock pulled out, coming in his hand. "John!" he moaned. 

John came as well, a primal howl escaping from his throat. 

*****

After all three had calmed and cooled down, Sherlock and Mary were lying side by side on the bed as John spanked their bare bottoms simultaneously with the paddle. John couldn't believe how much he was enjoying this, loving the sound of the wood against flesh. And Mary and Sherlock were enjoying it too, begging John to be rougher.

Once John finished, Sherlock looked at up him through those long, lush eyelashes with eager eyes. John knew what he wanted. He wanted John inside him. That's how their night always ended, with Sherlock on his hands and knees, his delectable arse presented for John, who plowed into him from behind, and Mary knelt behind John, moving with him in rhythm as she caressed his nipples and kissed his neck. It was their favorite part of the threesome and they always saved it for last.

Then they would change the bed and slide into the sheets, all three of them cuddled together, John in the middle with Sherlock spooning him from behind and Mary facing his chest, as they settled into a blissful sleep, happily anticipating next month when they would be together again. 

 

 

 

 


	11. Of Sussex, Rain, and Blogging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock takes John on a getaway to comfort him after he loses his job. John writes a private blog entry about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in first person from John's POV. Pure fluff with a touch of mild smut.

Day Eleven - Looking After

 

**From the Blog of John H. Watson**

**Monday, May 1st**

_This entry is not for the public. It is just for myself and Sherlock (if he cares to read it)._

_As I write this, I'm sitting at the kitchen table inside Sherlock's parents' cottage in Sussex. It's raining steadily and it's a bit on the cool side, but dreary weather is actually quite relaxing and calming, especially after the week I've had._

_It all started last Thursday. The doctor's office I work in has unfortunately been losing clients to a spanking brand new clinic a few miles down the road. Apparently people think if a building is shiny and new, it must mean better. My hours were cut the month prior, but I didn't mind that. What I did mind was losing my job, or as my boss put, "laid off."_

_I shouldn't have been surprised, I'd been at this clinic the shortest out of all the other GP's so of course I'd be the first one on the chopping block, but still being told I no longer had a job was a bit demeaning. I began to feel like the useless cripple I had been after I was discharged from the Army._

_I'd been afraid to tell Sherlock. I was afraid he'd no longer want me after finding out I was unemployed. And my limp came back too, which would be a dead giveaway. So I manned up and told him point blank what happened. I braced for a barrage of insults Sherlock was so good at doing. Imagine my surprise when his response was to take me into his arms and comfort me, promising me everything was going to be okay, and that we wouldn't hurt for money. Which was true. His private consulting work brought in plenty of cash. It was the principle of the thing. I wanted to work and feel useful. Sherlock told me I was already useful by assisting him on cases and being his conductor of light, helping him think more clearly, but I still wanted to be out and contributing something. And I know he loves it when I'm home spending time with him. Sherlock may enjoy his alone time, but he also loves to cuddle and snuggle and we spend plenty a day and night together on the sofa, or in bed talking and reading._

_I broke down that night crying, and that's when Sherlock suggested we go to his parents' cottage in Sussex for a week-long holiday. He told me it would be good for us both, that we could relax for a while and when we got back to London, I could begin job hunting again. Sherlock is sure I'll find something. But he admitted that he's selfish and wouldn't mind if I was home all day with him. He constantly sought my attention before we got together and he does it even more after we got together. The sulks he would pull when I told him I had to go to work, and when I got home, he would be all over me like a clingy, needy cat! I don't mind of course, it feels wonderful to be needed._

_At this moment, Sherlock is in town picking up groceries to make us dinner. Sherlock is a pretty decent cook I have to admit. He says cooking isn't that difficult because it's a science. Well, if it's science that makes a perfect quiche, I'll agree to it. Well, time to log off and take a little break. I think I'll make myself a cuppa and watch some crap telly for a bit until my mad genius returns._

_*****_

**May 2nd** _  
_

_Last night's dinner was excellent. The rain gave way to thunderstorms, so Sherlock and I spent the rest of the night cuddling on the sofa while listening to a classical music station. I had fallen asleep thanks to the combination of the quiche in my belly and Clair de Lune in my ear. When I awoke two hours later, I found Sherlock was laying on top of me. I smiled and pressed a kiss to those luscious curls of his, and attempted to get him off me so I could use the loo. Well that was easier said than done. Sherlock is dead weight when he's asleep. So I basically shoved him off me. He awoke with a start and a big frown on his face. I apologized and told him I was going to wash up and get into bed._

_Sherlock thought that was a very good idea. I could tell by the look in his eyes he wanted to have sex, but I was a little too tired to do little more than a handjob and blowjob. Sherlock was fine with that, so after we washed our faces and brushed our teeth, we stripped naked, and Sherlock sat on the bed while I was on my knees pleasuring him with my mouth and hands. The noises Sherlock makes during oral sex are beautiful. I tell him not to hold back, and when he comes, it's like being front row at an opera._

_We had a very restful sleep, the spring storm definitely helped us along. Now it's morning, Sherlock and I had a full English breakfast which I cooked, and we're getting ready to take a walk on the beach. The sun is out, the skies are the bluest I've ever seen, and it's supposed to be much warmer today._

_This trip is definitely what this doctor needed. For now, I'm going to enjoy this little holiday with the man I love, leaving the stress of trying to find a new job behind for the rest of the week. That can wait until we return to London next Sunday. Until then, I'm going to let my brilliant detective care for his blogger. He's doing such a wonderful job of it. I'm so lucky to be loved by this man. Oh, and my limp is gone again too._

_Until next time,_

_John Watson_


	12. Gone to the Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John and Molly and Greg are expecting grandpuppies when their dogs get together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the breeding prompt I was going to do Omegaverse but I'm dog sitting my mom's Shih Tzu, Bella, and this came into my head.

Day Twelve - Breeding

 

It all started when Sherlock and John brought their bulldog Gladstone to Greg and Molly's house. 

Sherlock and John got Gladstone as a wedding present from Sherlock's parents. Gladstone's former owner was a lovely elderly couple who were going into a rest home together and couldn't take their dog. Sherlock and John had wanted a pet for some time, so it was perfect. Gladstone had taken to the two men immediately. 

Sherlock and John had moved out of their Baker Street flat into a lovely cottage in Brighton that had a nice fenced in back yard which gave Gladstone plenty of space to run and walk. John also used his days off from work to walk him through town, and when Sherlock wasn't taking clients, he joined John on the walks. 

Greg and Molly had gotten engaged Valentine's Day and were planning a wedding for early summer of next year. They had moved out of the city into a London suburb, a cozy two-story home with a small front yard and fenced-in backyard. They also had a dog, an adorable beagle named Poppy. Poppy had been a Christmas present from Greg to Molly, obtained from a reputable breeder that Greg's mother knew.

Greg and Molly wanted to breed Poppy just once so they didn't have her fixed. Sherlock and John had an appointment to get Gladstone neutered the following week.

So of course when the two couples met for lunch one gorgeous spring afternoon, they had their dogs tied to trees so they wouldn't "get together." But if something is meant to happen, it will generally happen.  _The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley._ (the best laid plans of mice and men go awry) as Robert Burns put it.

Poppy had somehow slipped out of her harness and headed straight for Gladstone, who at first wanted nothing to do with her. Then he sniffed her a few times, and it was all she wrote. Before Sherlock, John, Molly, and Greg could separate the two dogs, Gladstone had broken free of his leash and mounted Poppy.

The two pooches were going at it so fast, and when the foursome tried to intervene, both dogs growled loudly. Nothing was going to stop their mating. They could only watch in horror as Gladstone frantically and fiercely used his canine family jewels to breed Poppy, who howled loudly in approval. Neither of them had seen two dogs mate in person, and it was actually quite fascinating to watch.

The apologies began flying fast and furious.

"Jesus guys, I'm sorry, if we'd known Poppy was in heat we'd never allow Gladstone to come with you..." Greg lamented.

"I'd thought the dogs had enough distance that they wouldn't go near each other. Sherlock and I will do everything we can to find the puppies good homes..." John said, shaking his head.

"Well, we can always breed her a second time with another beagle..." Molly offered, trying to be hopeful.

Sherlock, of course, wasn't so apologetic. "Why are you all treating this like it's something so horrible? These Beabulls will be good-looking dogs, and we'll get a pretty penny for them. It's not the end of the world!" 

Six sets of eyes turned towards him. "Beabull?" John said, scratching his head.

"Yes John, do keep up. Bulldogs and beagles have been bred before. They're popular designer dogs, and they will make excellent pets. I'm sure we'll have no trouble selling Gladstone and Poppy's progeny since both parents are purebred."

John turned to Greg and Molly. "Well, what do you think?" If we sell the pups, we can split the profits."

"We can use the money for our wedding," Molly told Greg.

"Sherlock can buy another Belstaff, his is getting a bit long in the tooth," John added. Sherlock eagerly nodded in agreement.

Greg thought about it for a bit. "We're going to have puppies whether we want to or not, so let's go for it. Let's make lemonade out of lemons."

The four shook on it. Now all they had to do was wait.

*****

_ Sixty-five days later _

John, Sherlock, Greg and Molly were sitting on folding chairs in the laundry room, watching intensely as Poppy started to give birth. Gladstone was right by his ladyfriend's side, providing comfort and support. 

Poppy lay on her side, her belly swollen and pink, nipples ready with milk for her newborns. The first puppy's head was outside of her hole. It had it's mom's floppy ears, it's father's face, and its coloring was tan and dark gray.

Poppy whined, and Greg gently knelt down. "Need some help love?" He tenderly reached inside and slowly eased the puppy out with his hands. The puppy writhed and squiggled for a bit before it sought out its mother's nipple, latched on, and started to nurse. Poppy and Gladstone took turns licking its firstborn.

"Amazing, isn't it Sher?" John asked his husband, his blue eyes wide at witnessing the miracle of birth.

"It's extraordinary," Sherlock replied, also looking on in amazement. He'd seen videos of puppy births online, but watching one in person was a moment he'd secure in his mind palace.

Molly was videotaping everything with Greg's phone, a huge grin on her face.

It took a little over an hour and a half, but Poppy had birthed five gorgeous puppies, three males and two females. All were nursing, with the proud parents licking and nuzzling them. Each puppy had a paper collar in a different color around their neck to tell them apart.

"They're beautiful little things, aren't they love?" Greg asked, standing behind his fiancee as she continued to record.

"Yes. It'll be hard to part with them after six weeks," Molly said wistfully.

"We'll make sure they all go to good, loving homes," Greg promised.

*****

The puppies were healthy and ready to be sold. John had put notices up at the clinic and on his blog, Greg at the Yard, Molly at St. Bart's, and Sherlock tried to pressure his brother Mycroft into buying one, but he said no and stood firm. 

It didn't take long for the puppies to be sold. One of John's co-workers bought one for his family, Mike Stamford and his wife took one, another was purchased by one of Sherlock's clients, a woman whose treasured jewels he recovered for her, and the other two were taken by a family who owned a huge farm in the countryside. 

Molly and Greg put their half of proceeds in the bank towards their wedding, and John and Sherlock used their half for a holiday to Iceland. Mycroft surprised his brother with a new Belstaff as a thank you for solving a case for him. 

As for Poppy and Gladstone, it was decided their breeding days were over. Gladstone was neutered, Poppy  was sterilized, and they were free to be cherished family pets. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not advocate breeding or buying dogs. There are tons of pets in pounds who need good homes----always try to get a rescue first if you can!


	13. Night Strokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emotionally draining case combined with a fierce ice storm sends Sherlock to John's bed, where something unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dog sitting has put me a day behind in posting. Anyway, this story takes place between A Study in Pink and The Blind Banker.

Day 13 - Somnophilia

 

Sherlock and John entered their flat exhausted and emotionally drained. Two hours ago, they had apprehended a suspect wanted for several rapes on St. Bart's campus. It had turned out to be one of the school security guards, taking out his revenge and frustration after a student he'd been secretly dating dumped him. He'd made a full confession. 

The two didn't even have their customary cup of tea before bedtime. They each dragged themselves to their bedrooms, eagerly awaiting the feel of soft mattresses and silence.

It took what little strength John had left to strip out of his clothes and get under the covers. He left his jacket, jumper, vest, jeans, shoes, socks, and underwear in a pile at the foot of the bed. Teeth brushing and face washing could wait until morning. He just wanted sleep.

Sherlock only removed his beloved Belstaff coat, shoes, socks, and unhooked the belt from his trousers. He flopped on top of his bed and within minutes, he was out.

*****

Sherlock awoke to the sound of steady pinging against the windows. He sat up, forgetting for a moment he still had his clothes on. The tight fitting dress shirt and dress slacks clung to his frame and he groaned slightly as he adjusted his shirt, which had twisted and bunched around his shoulders. He got up and turned on his bedroom light and padded over to the windows. 

Freezing rain was hitting the window and Sherlock remembered hearing earlier about an ice storm starting after midnight and lasting through early afternoon. Sherlock was grateful it was now Saturday, that meant John was off work and he didn't have to go out. He'd been thinking a lot about John lately, and how wonderful it was to have him in the flat. Sherlock for years said to everyone he preferred being alone, that alone protected him, but after John had shot that serial killing cabbie in order to save his life, Sherlock had begun to look at the army doctor in a whole new light, and with that, feelings he'd never thought he'd had rose to the surface of his emotionally distant mind.

Sherlock took off his constricting clothes and let them lay on the floor. He went to his drawer and pulled out a pair of gray pajama bottoms and an old, comfortable navy T-shirt. Breathing a sigh of relief at feeling the cool, loose cotton against his skin, he started for his bed, and then a chill ran through his body. He realized the heat was off, but he didn't feel like turning it on. And the freezing rain was falling harder now, its pellets pinging loudly against the glass.

Before he knew it, Sherlock was opening his bedroom door, walking down the short hallway and up the few steps to where John's room was. He opened the door and saw a still lump bundled up inside the bed. John was obviously sound asleep. 

Sherlock slowly tip-toed to the unoccupied side of the bed, and crawled inside, trying very hard not to wake John. He pulled the covers tight around him and closed his eyes.

*****

Sherlock awoke again, and this time he could feel warm breath ghosting against his neck. "Sherlock! What are you doing in my bed?" John's voice whispered heatedly to him. His eyes adjusted to the soft glow of the lamp on John's bedside table.

Sherlock panicked for a moment. He forgot he was in his friend's bed. "Sorry John. The storm woke me up."

"Storm?" John stopped and cocked his head towards the window. "Oh right. The news did say we were going to have an ice storm. But that still doesn't explain why you're in my bed."

"I got cold, and I don't know...I just needed to come to your room and get in bed with you. Your presence is comforting and calming. It was the rape case---seeing and hearing the suspect confess to those awful crimes got to me."

John's face softened. Damn those who felt Sherlock was an unfeeling sociopath. He placed a gentle hand on the detective's shoulder. "Yeah, it was an awful one this time. At least he's behind bars and can't hurt anyone else."

Sherlock nodded. "Look, if you want me to leave, I will. I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep." He began to get out of bed, but John placed a hand on the small of his back, and he nearly shuddered at the warmth.

"No Sherlock, it's fine. Actually, I think it would be rather nice having you sleep next to me. I was beginning to have a disturbing dream about the case. Maybe with you here, my sleep will be undisturbed. Stay."

Sherlock still had his back turned to John, but he was smiling. "You sure?"

"Course I'm sure. Get back in bed."

Sherlock crawled under the sheets again. "Goodnight John."

"Goodnight Sherlock." John turned out the light and put his head on the pillow, closing his eyes.

*****

John awoke again, feeling something warm and sturdy on his chest, and something tickling his cheek. Then he remembered Sherlock was in bed with him. He slowly reached out with his hand to turn on the bedside lamp. Sure enough, Sherlock's head was tucked under John's chin, dark curls brushing his face. One long leg was draped over both of John's, and two long arms were wrapped almost possessively around his waist.

Sherlock rarely slept, so it was quite nice to see the genius in a peaceful slumber, even if he was practically on top of John. The doctor reached up and massaged Sherlock's curls, and placed his other hand on Sherlock's wrist. Sherlock hummed sleepily, and John smiled.

Something compelled John to press a light kiss to the top of Sherlock's head. Sherlock hummed again, and John kissed his curls again. Then he closed his eyes, and soon was back asleep again.

*****

John awoke once again, and he could feel something warm shuffling inside his pants. 

Oh God.

It couldn't be.

Yes it was.

It was Sherlock's hand, stroking his cock. And it felt heavenly. John closed his eyes and turned his head, feeling Sherlock's lips on his hair.

Sherlock increased the strokes and John could hear him murmur his name repeatedly. John fought the urge to let out a moan. He didn't want to scare Sherlock and have him stop the handjob.

His dick was throbbing and leaking, and Sherlock pumped harder and harder. Finally John couldn't take it anymore. He sat up and shouted Sherlock's name, coming all over the detective's hand.

He could hear a low chuckle in the dark, and John, still breathless, reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. He looked at Sherlock, who had a dreamy, loopy grin on his handsome face. "That was the best handjob I've ever had."

"You were awake, weren't you?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "I didn't want to scare you and have you stop, it felt too good."

Sherlock removed his hand from John's pants. "Just wipe your hand on my pants since they're soiled and I have to take them off," John said.

Sherlock did, and John stood up, removing the dirty underwear. Sherlock eyed the doctor's muscular tanned body, tingles and shivers pulsing from his head to his toes, his cock twitching several times.

"Since you've gotten me off, there's no sense in hiding anything anymore. Want me to take a turn with you?" John asked, winking at Sherlock.

 _"Yes please,"_ Sherlock answered, scrambling to remove his pajama bottoms.

"You have to pretend you're asleep." 

Sherlock nodded and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes. John chuckled and got back into bed, placing one hand on Sherlock's cock. With his other hand, he turned off the lamp and began to caress Sherlock's cock. 

"Christ you're gorgeous," he breathed. "I've wanted to do this for a while now. Let's do it again tomorrow night, if you want."

Sherlock just smiled, happy his feelings weren't unrequited, already anticipating tomorrow. He was going to be sleeping a lot more from now on.

 

 


	14. Extra Credit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Physics teacher Jim Moriarty and art teacher Molly Hooper engage in some hot age play in an empty classroom after school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a high school AU PWP featuring a rare pair. No incest or daddy kink. Molly pretends to be a high school student. Both she and Jim are in their late 30's.

Day 14 - Age Play

 

Jim sat at his desk, grading test papers. The majority of the students in his class were idiots, but there were a few that stood out and surprised him with their intellect. One was Sherlock Holmes, who was not shy in letting his classmates know how much of a genius he was. His outspokenness had led to a few black eyes and split lips, but the boy didn't care. Jim admired his moxie.

The other two were Mike Stamford and John Watson. Both were good kids who wanted to be doctors. Jim was surprised, since both were also on the rugby team and were highly athletic, but he had encountered several jocks who startled him with their intelligence and seriousness about their schooling. Jim had learned not to judge others by appearance, especially after the events of the last four months.

The new school year brought a new art teacher. Molly Hooper was an attractive, if somewhat mousy-looking brunette who replaced Mrs. Hudson, who decided to retire after thirty years at Westwood Prep. Jim learned from the school nurse Ms. Adler that Ms. Hooper was actually studying to be a pathologist when she switched gears and decided to pursue teaching. Jim thought that pathology was a lot more interesting, but he could see how being around dead bodies all day could be taxing.

Jim had caught a glimpse of her one day as he was heading to the teacher's lounge for lunch. She was talking to Ms. Adler, and when she saw Jim, she smiled and winked at him. Jim could see something in that otherwise ordinary face, and he decided to figure out what it was. So after school, he made his way down to the art wing where he saw Molly at her desk, drawing. It was a nude portrait of herself. He'd become intrigued, as well as turned on. Molly invited him to Speedy's for coffee---and then they ended up back at her flat, where he enjoyed some of the best sex of his life. 

"Everyone always thought I was this quiet, shy, little prude. But I enjoy sex, and I'm very adventurous. I'm up for anything," she told him after their first time together. He also found out why she chose to become a teacher. She was having a torrid affair with her pathology professor, who had seen her drawings and felt she should pursue an art career. She compromised and became an art teacher. "Better salary and job security," she said.

Since September, the two were enjoying a heated sexual relationship. Jim and Molly did it anywhere they could when not in school---at their flats, in their cars, secluded outdoor spots. But today, Jim wanted to take their relationship even further and cross another boundary. He wanted to shag Molly inside the school and do some roleplay.

Today was the perfect day. Classes had let out for winter break so he knew no one would be at school. The janitors didn't have to work second shift due to the holiday. Molly had already told him she was staying behind to grade her students' art projects. So they had the entire building to themselves. Any room, any space, was open for them to satisfy their lust for each other.

Jim's phone, which sat on his desk, buzzed. He picked it up and grinned when he saw it was a text from Molly.

_I'm in the infirmary. Come to me Jimmy, I need you._

Jim rushed out so fast he nearly knocked the test papers off the desk.

*****

Jim opened the doors to the infirmary.  He saw Molly, sitting in a plastic chair, a big seductive grin on her face, with her legs crossed, wearing what appeared to be a school uniform. But it didn't look like the ones the students here wore. Especially since her white blouse was buttoned all the way down to reveal her cleavage, and the plaid skirt was much shorter than the ones the girls wore. Her brown hair was in pigtails, and she had on white anklet socks with lace and black Mary-Janes. Jim was reminded of that infamous Britney Spears video where she danced and writhed around in a sexy school uniform. He thought Molly was way hotter.

"Oh Professor Moriarty, I'm so glad you're here," Molly said, her voice a little higher and breathier. "I'm not feeling very well and Nurse Adler is gone for the day. But I know if anyone can make me better it's you, since you know so much about energy, electricity and magnetism and how it relates to my body." She uncrossed her legs, mimicking Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. And just like in the movie, Molly was wearing no underwear. She reached down with a hand and went between her legs, placed her index finger inside her clit and began stroking herself. 

Jim immediately grew hard. Molly was titillating in that little outfit, and he couldn't wait to tear off her skirt, spread her legs open, and fuck her senseless.

"I know you're hard Professor. I know that big cock of yours is aching to be inside me, making feel so good. Take off your clothes and cure me. Make my body well again, Molly purred in her school girl voice, continuing to masturbate. "I'm getting wet and loose just for you." 

Jim began removing his clothes. He shed his jacket, taking off his tie, and with a flourish, moved towards Molly, rubbing the black silk fabric in between her breasts. Molly moaned at the feeling of the material on her skin and the feeling of her finger still inside her. She removed the finger and lunged forward with a hungry look in her eyes, and quickly made haste of Jim's belt, unzipping his trousers, licking her lips as she saw his cock pressing forward against his navy blue boxer briefs. Jim rapidly unbuttoned his shirt and tore it off him. 

Molly giggled and pulled down his underwear, freeing Jim's stiff and leaking cock. He groaned as the cool air hit his member. He was so ready to enter his lover.

Molly got on her knees, and with one hand, she guided his cock into her mouth. She began to suck it in earnest, and used her other hand to steady him, placing it on his bare behind. Jim grunted at the wet heat enveloping him, and he rocked his hips, placing a hand on top of Molly's head, scratching her scalp with his nails.

"God you feel good," he hissed. He bucked his hips again, and Molly took him in deeper, humming as she sucked him hard, her hand digging into his backside.

Jim knew he wasn't going to last long, and he didn't want to come in Molly's mouth. He needed to save his orgasm for when he was inside her. "Enough Ms. Hooper, The professor needs to be inside you now."

Molly slid off with a wet and filthy pop. She looked up at Jim and grinned. "Of course Professor." She sat back in the chair and spread her legs wide. She stretched out her arms. "I'm ready for my physics lesson."

Jim let out a shaky breath and got in between Molly's thighs. "You are definitely going to earn your extra credit today Ms. Hooper," he said thickly. Still wet from his blowjob, he took his cock in hand and lined it up to Molly's entrance.

"I'm so wet Professor. So wet and ready for you," Molly told him silkily as she took off her blouse, freeing her breasts. 

Jim quickly slide inside Molly. The two groaned in unison as Molly eagerly took all of Jim's cock, her hands once again grabbing his backside, pulling him closer and deeper inside her.

Jim began to move, rocking his hips, the pleasure of his cock slipping and sliding in and out of Molly, her tight heat rising like a towering inferno. He groaned at the wet noise his cock made as he thrust hard and deep into his lover, enjoying listening to her moans and squeals.

"Yes Professor that's it, fuck me harder, oh harder," Molly whined, her hands now on both sides of his hips as she moved to meet Jim's sharp thrusts. "Feels so good!"

The chair squeaked and rocked in rhythm as Jim fucked Molly in a furious frenzy. He wrapped his arms around her chest and lifted her up. Molly wrapped her legs around his waist, and he turned around, cock still inside her, moving towards one of the beds, careful not trip since his trousers and pants were still bunched around his ankles. He laid her on the bed and pulled out of her, causing Molly to whimper. "Please don't stop Professor, it's so good."

"Don't worry my dear Ms. Hooper, your professor will be back inside you in a jiffy. I just need to remove the rest of my clothing, and I suggest you take off that skirt. We need to be free to move like we really want." He quickly took off his shoes and socks and pulled off the trousers and pants. Molly shimmied out of her skirt but kept her socks and shoes on. The sight of a naked Molly in her just her little white socks and Mary-Janes made Jim even harder. "Up against the headboard Ms. Hooper."

Molly scrambled so her back and head was against the metal. She spread her legs again, thrust her hips up, and Jim knelt in between them, entering her again, gripping the headboard with both hands as he resumed shagging her.

Molly dug her nails into his back, scratching his pale skin, moaning loudly as he moved deeper and deeper in her once again. "Professor!" she cried, gasping at the fullness of his cock, her breasts jiggling with his thrusts. 

Moments later, both of them came together, yelling and crying out. Molly leaned back and moaned as she felt Jim burst inside her, giving a silent thanks she was on birth control, feeling the spasms of her body wash over her. 

Jim stayed inside her for a minute, catching his breath before pulling out and collapsing beside Molly. 

"A plus Ms. Hooper. But I would like to continue our extra credit. How about dinner at my place tonight?"

"Yes Professor, I would like that." Molly giggled and turned to face Jim, kissing him deeply. "We do have all of winter break you know."

Jim wrapped his arms around Molly and cuddled her, planting kisses all over her neck. "I hope we get a blizzard."

 

 


	15. Atomic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punk!Sherlock and Emo!John are living together and totally in love. Mild angst, with a touch of smut and sweet fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are both 18. Mrs. Hudson is 36. Story takes place in 1983, because I'm an 80's kid and love almost all things about the 80's, especially the music. There was such a variety to listen to, and 99.99% of it was awesome. 
> 
> Title is from the [Blondie song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g50RXOYW_Co) of the same name.
> 
> Inspired by sweet little kitty's Punk!lock artwork on tumblr.

Day Fifteen - Piercings or Jewelry

 

John walked down Baker Street, his Walkman in the pocket of his slim black jeans, headphones blasting John Foxx's "Europe After the Rain" as he headed to the flat he shared with his boyfriend of three years, Sherlock Holmes. He was carrying groceries from Tesco. It was his turn to make dinner tonight.

He walked up the seventeen steps to the landing, heading for 221 B. He could hear the loud music blaring from inside, drowning out the mournful sounds of his music. John set down the bags and turned off his Walkman, pushing his headphones on top of his blond hair. 

The door to 221 A opened and Mrs. Hudson, their landlady stood in the doorway. "Hello John. Sherlock's been playing his records again full force since you left. He's in one of his moods again." She leaned in closer. "That areshole of a brother paid him another visit."

John shook his head. Great. Sherlock was always in a bad mood after Mycroft came, usually lecturing him about his lifestyle and choosing not to attend university, threatening to bar him from accessing his very large trust fund he inherited on his 18th birthday. He didn't even know why his older brother even came to talk to him, Sherlock had repeatedly told Mycroft to piss off and leave him alone. It probably was a control thing since both their parents were dead.

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson. I'll see what I can do to bring him round."

"Oh, if anyone can do it, it's you. He loves you so much. Goodness knows where he'd be if you didn't come into his life." 

John couldn't help but blush. "You're too kind Mrs. Hudson." He gave her another glance. "Trying out a new look?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "D'you like it?" She twirled around. "There's a new singer out. She only goes by one name, Madonna. I saw a picture of her in the newspaper, and I loved all the lace she was wearing, so I'd thought I'd try it out." 

John thought Mrs. Hudson didn't look half bad in her white lace short-sleeved top and black pencil skirt, with a silver chain belt around her slim waist. Her hair was blond, a shade darker than John's, and she had it cut into a fashionable pixie. 

"Pretty snazzy. Well, I'd better get inside before he decides to throw dishes again. See you later." John picked up the shopping and opened the door, wincing as his eardrums started to pound from the loud punk rock ruminating from the living room.

John saw Sherlock lying on the sofa, clad in super tight faded jeans and an equally tight black sleeveless T-shirt, his beautiful face set in that familiar deep scowl John had grown accustomed to. His hands were balled into fists, and he was kicking the edge of the worn-out sofa with long, bare feet.

John said nothing. He went to the kitchen and quickly put the groceries away, then headed to the record player. The singer was shouting "I don't care about you!" before John took the needle off the vinyl.

The sudden lack of music made Sherlock turn his head. His frown immediately disappeared upon seeing his boyfriend. "John!" he called out.

John smiled and set his Walkman down next to the skull on the mantle, placing the headphones on top of its head. He went to Sherlock, leaning down and planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. "Hi love. Mrs. Hudson told me Mycroft made another one of his ill-timed appearances." He flopped down in the armchair across from the sofa. "What barrage of insults did he unleash upon you this time?"

"I don't want to talk about that fat, intolerable, out-of-touch arsehole," Sherlock spat. He looked at John, frowning again. "You were gone longer than usual."

"Yeah, I know, sorry about that. New cashier at Tesco's in training and of course I happened to choose her line. The place was packed today for a Wednesday. You'd think people would be out at work or somewhere else besides there." He smiled at Sherlock. "But I'm here now."

Sherlock held out his arms. "Come here John."

John got up and headed for his boyfriend. Sherlock pulled John down on top of him, meeting his lips in a warm, loving kiss. "I miss you when you're not here," he whined after completing the kiss.

"I miss you when I'm not here either." John pressed a kiss to his forehead and reached up to ruffle his curls. Sherlock had shaved both sides of his head, leaving the top a curly Mohawk which he dyed purple. He had piercings from the top of both his ears down to his lobe, a silver hoop in his right eyebrow, and a lip piercing on the left side. Tattoos covered both his arms. On his right bicep was a bumblebee hovering on top of a green carnation, on his left, an otter holding a fish. He'd gotten that after John told him one night he looked like a "sexy otter." On his back, right under his neck, were the words _Pas un heros_ (Not a hero). On his hipbone was a small purple skull. And on his chest, right where his heart was, was John's name. Because John was his heart.

Sherlock was peppering kisses all over John's jaw and neck, holding him close, not able to describe the love he felt for him. He'd met John in the least romantic way possible. He was at a party at his friend's Greg Lestrade's house, snorting cocaine and downing back shot after shot of vodka when he stumbled outside in an alley, threw up violently into a trash can, and collapsed on the ground. A voice he could only describe later as honey and sunlight kept asking him if he was okay, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a short, muscular, blond boy with the darkest eyes of blue and the cutest stub of a nose he'd ever seen, his face full of concern, standing over him. Sherlock though he'd come straight from the sun himself. The stranger introduced himself as John Watson, helped him to stand, and took him back to his flat to recover. The two were together ever since. John had saved Sherlock's life, literally and figuratively. 

It was a shock to both of their friends that the two were so in love with each other. Sherlock came from a very wealthy family. John's family was working class, both his parents factory workers. Sherlock had jumped into the punk scene with a rabid ferocity, mostly to upset his brother, but he found he really liked the music and lifestyle. John was considered an emo/new wave kid. He preferred bands like Ultravox, Depeche Mode, Devo, Blondie, Missing Persons, A Flock of Seagulls,The Psychadelic Furs, The Cure, and artists like John Foxx, Toyah, and Gary Numan. John mostly wore skinny jeans, T-shirts, or button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up. John liked to wear black eyeliner and frequently painted his nails black or dark shades of red and purple. He kept his light blond hair short, but his bangs long and they frequently fell into his face. John also had piercings in his ears, all silver balls, he had a diamond in his nose, and he had two tattoos. One on his wrist of a sun, and one on his right shoulder of a hedgehog (Sherlock's pet name for him). 

Opposites attract though, and Sherlock and John were attracted from day one. It was true love, pure and simple.

Sherlock held John tight, now licking his earlobe, paying special attention to the silver studs. John shivered at the wet heat, and he felt a stirring in his cock. "Sherlock, how about we move this to the bedroom?" he asked thickly.

"Fuck yes," Sherlock replied. John moved to get up and Sherlock stood, taking his hand and rushing him out of the living room. 

*****

Sherlock loved it when John was on top. He loved the feel of John inside him, slowly bringing him to orgasm and today was no exception. The two had slept together a week after meeting each other, and less than a month later John had moved into his flat. Everyone thought they were rushing things, but Sherlock knew if didn't have John in his life, he'd still be using, bottoming for anyone he could to score more drugs, or dead in an alley covered in his own vomit. John was his light and his life.

"You know babe," John panted as he made love to his boyfriend, "you should get a belly button ring. It'd be bloody sexy on you."

"Mmm, I've been considering it," Sherlock said. "Want to go with me when I get it done---OOOH!!!"

"Hit your prostrate," John breathed, thrusting a little faster now.

"Don't stop John," Sherlock begged.

John didn't, and continued to fuck him, even after Sherlock came all over John's belly. John soon followed with his own orgasm, and he bent down to passionately kiss his mad punk lover. "I love you," John said. 

"I love you too hedgehog." Sherlock closed his eyes and moaned when John slowly pulled out of him. He sighed, in a total state of bliss.

John returned with wet flannels and cleaned both of them up. "Ready for dinner?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not yet. Come lay with me." He held out a hand.

John obeyed, settling in next to Sherlock, placing his head on his chest, a hand caressing the skull tattoo on his hipbone. Sherlock reached up and ruffled John's hair. Nothing more was said and nothing more needed to be said as afterglow sent them to a peaceful, lazy sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [song playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ACKEGCvLtI) on the record player is "I Don't Care About You" by Fear, an awesome punk tune. Listen to the song John is playing on his Walkman [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNe288_wEio)
> 
> Almost all of the bands and singers that John likes I like, and still listen to. I was totally into New Wave as a young girl, and I did dress like Madonna with the lace and the headbands and the crop tops.


	16. Protect and Serve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A concerned Sally goes to Greg's place to see why he called out sick. Little did she know the cure for Greg's ailment was old fashioned...literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humor and fluff with the silver fox and his aggravated coworker.

Day Sixteen- Masturbation

Her boss never called out sick. Something had to be wrong. 

DI Greg Lestrade came in even if he had a cold, or an earache. One time he came in with an upset stomach which led to him puking into a trash can at a crime scene. He'd caught the stomach bug and passed it on to nearly half the coppers at the Yard. Luckily she escaped it, having been on vacation that week. 

Sally pulled up in front of Lestrade's apartment building and got out, briskly walking towards the front door. His flat was on the second floor, fourth door down. 

Sally approached Greg's door and knocked a couple times. "Sir? It's Donovan. I'm just checking to see if you're okay." 

There was no answer. Sally rapped again, a little harder. "Sir," she called a little more forcefully. 

She could hear footsteps coming toward the door. It opened just a tad. Sally saw Greg's face through the chain. "Donovan what are you doing here?" he asked gruffly. 

"I got worried after I heard you called out sick. You never do that."

 "I appreciate your concern but I'm fine. Just a little bug. I figure after I passed on the last one, I should stay home this time." 

Sally nodded. "If you say so sir." 

Greg smiled slightly. "Thanks for checking up on me." 

"Anytime." Sally turned and started to leave and she heard Greg shut the door. But something in her gut told her to go back. As she did, she heard Greg yell "Christ why can't I come? If I can't get off soon I'll have to go to A&E!" 

Sally's eyes and mouth dropped open at the same time. He doesn't have a bug, he's got a boner that won't go down. But what caused it?

_Wait, I should not be thinking that! It's none of my business..._

Just then the door opened and Greg stood there in nothing but a bedsheet. Sally's eyes and mouth were agape again. 

"For some reason I'd knew you'd still be here. So you heard everything."

Sally blinked. "It's really none of my business sir. I'll go now." 

"No Donovan, wait. Maybe you can help me. I'm desperate."

Sally didn't say a word. She saw the helpless and pleading in her boss' eyes and couldn't believe he was asking her to help him with not being able to masturbate. It gave a whole new meaning to the term public servant. 

Finally she spoke. "Let me get this straight sir. You want me to help you get off?" 

"Donovan, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think this could be the way, but I need relief. Quick get inside." 

Greg pulled Sally into his flat. He shut the door and locked it. "Let's go to the sofa."

Sally followed him. He sat down with a grimace. "I guess you want to know how this happened." 

Sally knelt down beside him. "It would help sir." 

"I took some Viagra yesterday, I had a date I hoped would lead to well, you know. Anyway, she canceled and now I'm like this, and everything I've done to make me come hasn't worked."

He gazed at Sally sheepishly. "This is just between us. Nobody will ever know. Just make me come and I promise you can hurl all the insults at Sherlock you want." 

Sally chuckled. "Tempting sir, but I don't want to face the wrath of his soldier husband." 

Greg chuckled too, momentarily forgetting his stiffie. "I see what you mean." 

"Do you have any lube?" Sally asked. 

"Huh?" Greg's face was blank for a moment. Then he remembered why Sally was here. "Oh yeah, sorry." He pulled out a bottle from behind the cushion and handed it to her. 

Sally opened it and poured some liquid in her hand. "Ready sir?" 

Greg nodded fervently. "Yes. And please call me Greg since you're about to give me a hand job."

Sally snickered." Ready Greg?"

"Yeah. I hope this works."

"Me too. This was not how I expected to spend my lunch hour."

Greg lifted up his sheet. Sally saw his very hard member and almost did a double take. But she had a job to do and she wanted it done and over with.

She placed her greased up hand on top of Greg's cock and began to stroke it slowly. Greg hissed at the warm lube hitting his swollen flesh. 

Sally closed her eyes. She decided to pretend it was Phillip's cock she was touching instead of her boss, although her boyfriend's wasn't as big or thick. 

Greg's date sure missed out, she thought. Then she wondered why she even thought that in the first place. She was not attracted to Greg. She was performing a quasi medical service. One she hoped would be over soon. 

"That feels real nice Sally, can you speed it up," Greg gently commanded. 

Sally complied and began to stroke faster, still keeping her eyes closed. She could hear Greg's breaths beginning to get louder and more intense. 

"That's it Sally, you're doing beautifully. Just like that." Greg began to picture the woman he was supposed to be our with last night. She was a tall, gorgeous ginger with sparkling green eyes, pouty pink lips, and knockout cleavage. He imagined it was her stroking his length, preparing to wrap her pretty mouth around it. "Unnnnh Shannon," he moaned. 

Sally was relieved to hear him call out another womans name. Maybe it was the woman he was supposed to see last night. She kept up the pace of her strokes, hoping Greg would come soon. 

Greg muttered a string of unintelligible sounds and words but Sally could tell her hand job was working. Greg's cock was getting warmer in her hand. 

"Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes," Greg stammered, his voice rough and husky. "Do it to me you ginger minx."

Sally opened her eyes and looked at her watch. Twenty minutes left on her lunch. Looks like that apple in her drawer was her meal for the afternoon. 

Suddenly she felt Greg's cock swell even more, and she heard him let out a wail. His cock spasmed in her hand, and she was startled enough to let it drop. Greg grabbed it just as white, thick ribbons shot out and splattered on the bed sheet. 

Greg heaved a huge sigh of relief and Sally fell black on the floor. "Thanks Sally. I owe you one. I'm going to have you start calling you 'the cock whisperer.'" 

Sally's face went a little ashen. "Please sir, don't. I'm already certain Sherlock will figure out what happened next time we see him." 

Greg laughed. "I doubt he can even deduce this." 

Sally got up and smoothed her navy dress slacks. "I've got to get back to the office. My lunch hour is almost up."

"You never got a chance to eat. I'm sorry Sally..."

Sally waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. That's what I'm here for right? Protect and serve." 

"I really appreciate this. You're a good person and a good cop."

Sally smiled warmly. "Thanks. So are you." 

She left Greg's flat, still smiling, but hoping the next time her boss got hard, Shannon would be there to take care of him. 

 

 

 


	17. What Are You Going to Be For Halloween? Horny.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's costume turns Sherlock on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some Halloween crack with a dash of Parentlock!

Day Eighteen - Costume or Disguise

 

"What do you think Da?"

John beamed as Rosie twirled around in her bedroom, showing off her costume. Mrs. Hudson had done an excellent job creating a bee outfit for his daughter. Rosie had on a black and yellow striped long-sleeved shirt, black tutu, and black and yellow striped tights. John had bought the bee wings and antenna at Tesco. 

"You're going to be the prettiest bumblebee at the party tonight," John said, scooping up his six-year old daughter in his arms and kissing her forehead.

"Thanks Da. I'm going to show Papa now." Rosie padded out of her room to find Sherlock.

Halloween had rolled around again, and Rosie was now old enough to attend a costume party without her daddies. John's ex-girlfriend and now just good friend Sarah was hosting one at her house. She had married a successful cardiologist two years after the case John titled The Blind Banker, and had a daughter, Natalie. Their kids became best friends. Rosie would be sleeping over after the party and John would be picking her up tomorrow afternoon.

John had his own party to go to. The Yard was having one and it was being held at a pub called The Purple Moose. Sherlock had initially refused, until John told his husband that if he wasn't going, Sally Donovan was willing to be his date for the evening. Since that shocking announcement, Sherlock had been enthusiastic about coming to the party. His only request was that they not do a "couples costume."

"It's because everyone expects us to be cutesy and themey and that's so dreadfully dull and predicable," he'd said. John agreed. They were grown, independent men and they didn't need to dress up as salt and pepper shakers, or other silly couples costumes like plug and socket (John had a good laugh at seeing that online, Sherlock just sighed in disgust). 

Sherlock also insisted that they wouldn't know what the other was wearing until they were ready to leave for the party. John was sure Sherlock would be a pirate, or something that involved him to wear a frilly shirt and the tightest pants known to man. Since his husband already wore clothing that was two sizes too small for him to begin with, he didn't think it would be much of a stretch.

John made his way to living room, where he saw Sherlock talking to Rosie. Their daughter turned and she grinned when she saw her father. "Papa made me some slime. Wanna see?"

"Sure sweetheart." John went to the kitchen, where he saw a plastic bowl full of green goo. 

"It glows in the dark as well," Sherlock said. 

"I think this is one of the first experiments you've done that is actually appropriate for the situation. Are you going to take the slime to the party?" John asked his daughter.

Rosie nodded. "It's for the other kids to play with."

"Aww, how sweet." John smiled at his husband. "They'll love it." 

"Of course," Sherlock replied, smirking. Then he smiled back. "And much healthier and more interesting than candy too."

There was a knock at the door. "It's Miss Sarah!" Rosie cried out happily.

John went to get the door. Sure enough, Sarah and her daughter were there. "Hi Sarah, come on in. Rosie's ready to go. You two look great." 

Sarah smiled and came inside with Natalie following. Sarah was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West, and Natalie was Dorothy Gale. "Thanks John." She beamed at Rosie. "Don't you make a beautiful little bee!"

"Thank you. Mrs. Hudson made it for me," Rosie answered proudly.

"I like it," Natalie said.

John and Sherlock bent down and kissed their daughter on both cheeks. "Be good, and listen to Miss Sarah and Mr. Luke," John said. 

"I will." She looked at Sherlock. "Papa, the slime."

Sarah's eyebrows raised. "It's something Sherlock made for the party. It's totally harmless," John explained.

Sherlock handed Sarah the bowl. "For the children."

"Thank you Sherlock. You and John have fun at your party tonight."

Sarah, Natalie, and Rosie left. "Well love, it's time for us to get ready. I'll get dressed in Rosie's room," John said. He reached up and kissed his husband. "I can't wait to see your costume. It's probably something really hot and sexy."

Sherlock kissed John back. "You'll see," he cryptically replied.

*****

Sherlock was sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of wine, trying very hard to hide his massive erection under his leather trousers as he watched John talking with Greg Lestrade and Molly Hooper. The two had made quite an entrance in their costumes. Everyone was about knocked down when they saw Sherlock, with his dark hair slicked back, no curls in sight, wearing a long hooded black cape. Only DI Dimmock guessed correctly who he was (Khan from _Star Trek: Into Darkness_ ). "My kids dragged me to see that movie four times and the guy who played Khan could be your twin brother," he'd said. Everyone else either thought Dracula, or an evil warlock. Donovan simply said he was a "freakier freak," which earned her another Sherlockian dressing down ("trying to win Anderson back by being a Playboy bunny isn't going to work. You should have tried a T-Rex costume because he's got a rather weird obsession with dinosaurs.") 

Sherlock had made his distaste for science fiction and action movies known, so it was a big shock to see him dressed up as a character from one of of those movies. He did it for two reasons: He felt Khan was misunderstood and could relate to a genius whose intelligence was being used by one of a higher authority. The second was because John never stopped talking about how hot Khan was. Sherlock figured his costume would lead to some pretty great sex later. 

But it was John though, that had the heads turning when everyone got a glimpse of him in his rugby kit. He may be in his mid-forties, but he was still extremely fit, and Sherlock immediately noticed how the tight black shorts accentuated his shapely little bum, and showed off his tanned, muscular calves. His purple jersey, with the number 221 on the back ( and J HOLMES printed above it) showed off his taut chest and arms. Sherlock had dubbed it "the purple jersey of sex." Everyone was so used to John wearing soft cuddly jumpers and shirts that hid just how hot his body really was that when he did wear something that fit him like a second skin, it was noticed. Sherlock felt powerful knowing he was the only one that knew how much of a sex god his husband was.

And sex was what Sherlock so badly wanted right now. He'd tried to keep John at home, tried desperately to seduce him, but John said they were going to the party and they could do it when they got back. 

Sherlock wondered if he could go into the loo for a quick wank, but judging by the number of drunk revelers, he was sure it would be occupied most of the night by pukers and pissers.

John finally made his way back to his husband, standing in front of him, putting his hands on the tops of his thighs. "What do you say, my beautiful space terrorist, we get out of here, go back to the flat, and I'll give you my own kind of Halloween treat. You've been so good and patient tonight. You don't know how much I wanted to stay home and shag your sexy brains out after seeing you in those leather trousers."

"We could have stayed home if you'd let me have your way. Look at all the sex we missed," Sherlock pouted.

"I know, but it's good for you to get out and be sociable, do activities that don't involve standing around dead bodies. And the night is still young, plenty of time to catch up on all the sex." John softly kissed him.

Sherlock set down his glass of wine and stood up. "Well then, what are waiting for husband? Let's go home so I can do a little space exploration. "

*****

 As John cried out in orgasmic bliss in the dimly lit glow of their bedroom, he was glad Rosie was at Sarah's. He and Sherlock for the most part kept things as quiet as they could during their sexual activities when their daughter was asleep at night. But tonight, they got each other so wound up their moans and shouts so loud, they probably shattered all of Mycroft's CCTV lenses. 

Sherlock continued to thrust inside John, his husband's orgasm nearly making him come but he wasn't there yet. Until he reached around in front of his husband and took his cock in hand, pumping furiously. John reached around and met Sherlock's lips in a bruising kiss and tugged his hair, which had started to curl up again thanks to the sweat and movement of their union.

John shouted and came again, and Sherlock did too, emptying himself inside his love, before collapsing on top of John's back with a loud groan. "This was much better than going to any Halloween party," he breathed into his husband's ear. Promise me next year we'll stay home."

"Okay, but can we still dress up?" John asked, shifting his head to gaze at his gorgeous man.

"Oh yes John, and you'll be wearing your rugby uniform again. And I'm going to dress up as your referee."

"But I thought you didn't want to do cutesy couple costumes?"

"An impossibly hot rugby player and his super-intelligent referee is far from cutesy."

"You do have a point," John conceded.

"Yes. And speaking of points, I think it's your turn to use yours." Sherlock smirked at John, who laughed and flipped him over on his back. "You know," the blond said, as he began to pepper Sherlock's glistening pale back with kisses, "when people who weren't at the party ask what you were this year, I'm going to say horny."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Purple Moose is a bar right on the boardwalk in Ocean City, Maryland. It's a pretty popular place to go when down there.


	18. Look At Us Both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene and Molly commiserate over their failed attempts to win Sherlock Holmes. It leads to something very unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irene and Molly getting together are popular in fics. I can imagine them hooking up over their shared lust for Sherlock and realizing maybe they're better together than alone and pining.

Day 18 - Exhibitionism

Molly stirred the small plastic straw inside the cup that held her rum and Coke and sighed. For a singles' night at the bar, she'd hadn't had much luck attracting anyone, unless she counted the uni student who just turned nineteen and was already three sheets to the wind, or the retired bread maker who was pushing 70 and proudly proclaimed he'd just filled his Cialis prescription and was ready for Molly to "make his dough rise." 

There had to be someone out there for her. Her chasing Sherlock for so many years was a waste, especially since he had been in love with John Watson for about the same time and now they were engaged and Sherlock preparing to adopt Rosie. Her own engagement to Tom fell apart when she realized she really didn't love him. She considered asking Greg out, but Mycroft Holmes laid claim to the handsome DI. She wondered what the Holmes brothers had that made them so irresistible, and wanted to bottle it up. 

"Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here," a sultry - - - and familiar - - - voice piped up from behind. 

Molly turned around in her barstool to see Irene Adler's red lips smirking at her. She was wearing in a dark green sleeveless dress low cut to show off her cleavage and her dark brown hair hung loose around her slim face. 

"Hello Irene," Molly replied, a little taken aback. What brings you here?"

Irene leaned against the bar. "I was feeling restless tonight so I decided to check out the nightlife." She glanced around. "Pretty crowded in here."

Molly nodded. "It's singles' night." 

Irene smirked. "Well how appropriate, since I'm now single." 

Molly was taken aback for a second time. "You? What happened with you and Kate?"  

Irene hopped up on a barstool and elegantly crossed her legs. "Kate decided to trade dreary London for sunny Athens. She took a job as a personal assistant to a wealthy businesswoman who used to be a client of mine. I guess you could say she professionally seduced her away from me. So here I am." 

She turned her attention back to Molly. "What brings you here tonight?" 

"Trying to forget about past mistakes," she replied, a little too bitterly. 

"Mmm, yes I see," Irene drawled. She knew about Molly's pursuit of Sherlock that went nowhere after Molly told her during his birthday party at Angelo's.  She knew all too well.

She'd fallen in love with him and thought she had him the night he saved her life. But he left her to her new life and returned back to John. It had always been John. But they kept up a texting friendship, and she wasn't surprised to learn he and John got together.

"My dear Molly, it seems that we both have made fools of ourselves when it comes to Sherlock Holmes, and here we are in this bar trying to find anyone who looks decent enough to take home for a quick shag. Am I right?"

"I look that desperate don't I," Molly lamented, shaking her head. 

Irene smiled. "I am too, look at us both." She remembered saying those words to John when he emphatically denied he was gay.

She moved closer to Molly. "Why don't we be desperate together." She placed a hand on her knee.

"Irene, I'm flattered, you're very attractive, but I'm not a lesbian," Molly protested.

Irene chuckled. "John said the same thing to me years ago and look where he's at now." She raised an eyebrow. "What do you say Molly? Just one night, to forget about how lonely we are?" 

Molly peered into Irene's baby blues. It had been a long time since she'd had anyone in her bed, and if the warm body beside her was a woman, why should it matter? Especially if it was Irene Adler. Her sexual exploits were legendary. 

Irene squeezed Molly's knee again. "What's going on in that lovely brain of yours?" 

Molly placed her hand on top of Irene's. "What's going on is I'm taking you up on your offer. It could be fun." 

Irene leaned in and gently kissed Molly on the lips. "What are we waiting for? Let's get the hell out of here." 

*****

 Lips were on lips, hands ran up and down hips and all over thighs and behinds, breasts were cupped and sucked and licked.

By the time Irene's mouth connected with Molly's entrance and her tongue worked its way inside her, Molly was completely undone, gasping and writhing in Irene's black satin sheets, her hands clutching desperately at the smooth fabric, forgetting the video camera was recording all of their intimate actions. Irene was still aware, and it only made her act with more ferocity and intensity. Although being with a woman as sweet and supple as Molly, she didn't have to fake anything. The video was the cherry on what so far was a sundae of an evening, and thoughts of what could have been were instantly forgotten. 

*****

Sherlock's phone moaned that infamous moan, and he couldn't help but smile as a new message came in from Irene. He noticed it was a screen clip and became intrigued. He pressed the play icon. 

His aqua eyes grew wide in shock as he saw Irene and Molly, naked, sitting on a bed of black satin. 

"Hello Sherlock. We want you to know we're both over you and have been for some time," Irene said with a grin. 

"And since you won't believe anything without visual proof, see for your own eyes that we've moved on. Enjoy the show," Molly said smugly. 

Sherlock's first thought was not to watch what was obviously going to be porn but when Irene started kissing Molly passionately, his eyes were glued to the screen. By the time Molly had her fifth orgasm, Sherlock could no longer stand it and he went to Mrs. Hudson's where John was checking in on her after she'd fallen and bruised her knees. He dragged a protesting John out the door and downstairs to their flat, where he showed him the video. 

Later, while the two were otherwise engaged, a new text came on the phone:

I AM NO LONGER SHERLOCKED. 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Unchained Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson has finally completed secondary school and is leaving his horrid family life behind to start a new life of his own with his true love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Greaserlock love story, set in the late 50's.

Day Nineteen - Past or Future

 

The day that John waited for was finally here. His last day of upper sixth at Freeman. His A-level scores were exceedingly high thanks to years of hard work and determination. John needed to have those high marks. He wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to help people that not only needed his help, but would appreciate it, because his own family certainly didn't.

John's mother was a meek, wisp of a woman who married at fifteen, had John's older sister Harriet "Harry" nine months later, and then two years on, John arrived. John's mother stayed at home but it wasn't a choice. His father was a large blond blue-eyed brute of a man who worked at the local manufacturing plant. He had no ambition, no desire to move up, so the family lived paycheck to paycheck. When John was old enough to work, he delivered newspapers and washed dishes at Angelo's Restaurant. His father wouldn't let Harry work, so John's meager wages went to help supporting the family.

Harry was not the typical 1950's girl, and her anger at her father's treatment of her led to her rebelling by drinking. She was usually out all night on benders, and John spent plenty of his nights collecting his drunken sister out of wild parties.

John was the golden child. He did good and school, didn't touch booze or dope, and stayed out of trouble. The only thing his parents didn't approve of was his choice of a steady.

And today, his last day of school and the first day of the rest of his life, he was meeting his steady at their usual hideaway.

*****

John parked his truck behind the old Baskerville Hospital. A huge grin broke out onto his face when he saw the sleek, black motorcycle already there, and he began to tingle in anticipation of seeing his mate, his true love, the one he was running away with. 

John climbed through a broken out window. He wrinkled his nose at the musty smell. After a year of coming to this place, he'd never get over that old and stale odor. 

He walked through what was the lobby of the emergency wing, the tingles inside him growing even more. He hoped he'd always feel them. 

John came to the end of the hallway, brushing by the glistening spider webs dominating the ceiling corners, the rusted wheelchair propped up against the wall that was a reminder of what this place used to be. John could imagine the hustle and bustle of doctors, nurses, and medics as they rushed from room to room, taking care of patients, chatting about office romances, complaining about the coffee that tasted like tar. One day, he'd be part of that hustle and bustle. 

Today, he was focused on being in his love's arms, and leaving this miserable town behind. 

John walked into the last room on the left. It was the cleanest room, as he and his mate had spruced it up with two serviceable chairs they'd found in what used to be the cafeteria, and a hospital bed left behind in one of other triage rooms. A bed that held two bodies as they moved in a heated horizontal dance of love and lust. 

A tall lone figure stood by the window, a cigarette dangling from full, rosy lips that John was eager to kiss. Today, this lanky but surprisingly muscular frame was clad in a white sleeveless tee, dark blue jeans with a black studded leather belt, and black biker boots. 

Breathtaking eyes, swirls of aqua, green, and brown, sparkled in the dim glow of the afternoon sunshine spilling through the window. Lips curled up in a smile upon seeing John. The cigarette was gracefully removed from that heavenly mouth and crushed beneath a rubber heel. 

"Hey doll," a seductive low baritone drawled. Long, elegant, pale arms reached out. 

John rushed into those waiting arms. "Hi love. Been waiting long?" 

"Long enough," Sherlock Holmes replied. He leaned down and consumed John's lips in a heated kiss, his hands reaching to cup John's pert behind through his khaki trousers. 

John held his boyfriend tight to his chest, one hand reaching up to massage his midnight black hair which was slicked back with tons of Brylcreem. Sherlock had naturally curly tresses which he hated but John adored.

Sherlock broke away, but just to say "bed, now," and dragged John away from the window.

*****

John Watson was everything.

He was the sunlight that broke through the clouds after a summer thunderstorm.

He was the soft breeze rustling across the ocean.

He was a note played in perfect pitch.

He _was_ perfection, and when Sherlock first saw him outside Speedy's Diner, he had fallen in love at first sight, and fallen hard. But he nearly ruined it when he opened his mouth and proceeded to lay out all of John's hidden hurts. The subservient mother. The verbally and emotionally abusive father. The drunk sister.

John didn't react with name calling or a punch to the gut. He'd called Sherlock amazing, brilliant, fantastic.  And John took off with him and they spent a lovely afternoon together that ended in one of the best and steamiest kisses Sherlock ever had. He'd kissed quite a few people in his nineteen years, and this beautiful, flaxen-haired sixteen year-old boy took his breath away. 

Of course because he was so in love, it wasn't meant to last for him. John's parents were vehemently against the relationship. Not only was homosexuality extremely frowned upon, it was illegal.  The two were discreet, meeting wherever they could without getting caught, and when John suggested the old hospital could be their permanent place to be together, Sherlock readily agreed.

John's parents threatened to throw him out, but he told them he'd be gone in a year after finishing school, and then Harry would be their problem to solve.

Now that year was here, and he and John were leaving.

Sherlock's parents were world travelers, and they encouraged the two to go somewhere to follow their dreams. They kept saying this town was holding Sherlock back. They wanted him to find a place where he could use his brilliant brain, and be happy.

Sherlock had suggested France. John balked at first, because he didn't know the language, but Sherlock was teaching him. And his parents had a flat in Paris which they were giving to Sherlock. So they already had a place to live. 

John could get his medical degree there, and Sherlock, well, he could do anything if he put his mind to it.

He was relishing the adventure, and it was going to be even better with John by his side.

Sherlock turned to the sleeping boy beside him, spooning him from behind, curling around him, placing soft kisses on his neck, reliving their spirited lovemaking that they enjoyed just hours ago. He lived to hear John's cries and moans of pleasure as he peppered him from head to toe with hot kisses all over his bronzed flesh, as he wrapped his lips around his gorgeous cock, as he entered his boyfriend, savoring the feel of John wet and tight around him. 

Sherlock heard John begin to stir, and he smiled as the younger boy flipped over on his back, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms, turning to look at Sherlock, so full of love.

"Hey you," John murmured, reaching out to draw a circle on Sherlock's pale chest.

"Hi babe. Sleep well?"

"Mmm-hmm." 

Sherlock leaned down to tenderly kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"We should get going if we want to make it to Brighton by nightfall," Sherlock said.

He kissed John again and the two got out of bed and began to get dressed. The two were driving to Brighton to stay with Sherlock's friend Victor Trevor and his boyfriend, Billy Wiggins, for the summer at Victor's parents' beach house. Then they were making the big leap and going to Paris in the fall. 

They walked hand in hand out of the hospital, and together they secured Sherlock's bike in the bed of John's truck. From there they were going to Sherlock's house to get this his things, and then it was off to Brighton. Sherlock's parents had released his trust fund to him, so he and John weren't going to hurt for money for a quite a while, and John had a stash saved up from his two jobs he'd hidden from his parents.

"You drive," John told Sherlock. "I just want to put my head on your shoulder and listen to you sing me love songs on the radio."

Sherlock was more than amenable to that.

*****

A gentle rain fell as Sherlock and John were heading to Brighton. John did have his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock had one hand on the steering wheel and his other arm curled lovingly around his boyfriend. 

"Unchained Melody" started to play. Sherlock sang along with the words, singing to John, who gazed up at him so dreamily, each word meaning so much.

_Oh, my, love, my darling_ _I've hungered_ _for_  
_Your touch, a long lonely time_  
_And time goes by, so slowly and time_  
_Can do so much, are you still mine_  
_I need your love,_  
_I oh I need your love,_  
_God speed your love to me..._

They would have all the time in the world now. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unchained Melody first came out in the mid-50's. The one featured at the end is the 1955 version by Jimmy Young.
> 
> I have a Greaserlock WIP, Sleepwalk posted here. Once the porn challenge is done I'll be back working on that. There's over 20 chapters up so far---give it a chance if you haven't already!


	20. Gimme Some Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's penchant for sweets leads to a penchant for something else.

Day Twenty - Frottage

Sherlock spotted the chocolate candies shaped into balls that were dusted with powdered sugar sitting on a silver tray on the kitchen table.

"John," he called to his flatmate, who was sitting in his chair with his laptop. "What are these things on the table?"

"They're rumballs. Mrs. Hudson made them for a bake sale. She had extra and brought some up. I had one, they're good but very rich."

"You mean they actually have rum in them?"

John rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, you've never heard of rumballs? It's a common dessert to serve at parties, and yes, they have rum in them."

"Can you get drunk off of them?"

"I don't think so, but then again, you're not meant to eat a whole lot in one sitting."

Sherlock smirked. "This calls for an experiment." He took a rumball off the plate and popped it in his mouth, wincing as he bit into it, tasting the sweet flavor of dark rum that drenched his tongue. "Mrs. Hudson does like her rum," he remarked after he chewed and swallowed the candy. He picked up another one.

"Careful Sherlock, I'd stick to just two or three," John pleasantly warned.

"Nonsense John, I seriously doubt I'll get intoxicated by consuming a few of these tiny confections," Sherlock smugly replied.

*****  
"Wooo Jawn! Look at meeeee, I'm a ballerina!" Sherlock slurred as he twirled around in the living room. John could only shake his head and fight back laughter as he watched the detective, eyes closed, prancing and spinning around the flat. However, Sherlock was pretty graceful for being drunk off his behind. 

"La da da da da da da da" Sherlock sang as he continued to twirl around. John was waiting for the moment he'd stumble and fall right on his arse.

Sherlock opened his eyes and held out his hand. "Dance with me Jawn," he said, before omitting a loud belch.

John waved his hands. "No, I'm just going to sit here and watch. You're doing a fine job on your own." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, hit the camera button, and when the screen was filled with the wasted wannabe ballerina, he pressed the record icon. 

"What're doing?" Sherlock slurred, glaring at John but still dancing. "You recording me?"

"I want to preserve this amazing performance," John deadpanned.

"Nooooo, you're going to show it to Gavin and Myfat and Polly and Mrs. Slugson and all the idiots down at the Yard." He stopped dancing and staggered towards John, hands out trying to get the phone.

"Why not? I want everyone to see what a terrific dancer you are."

"Nooooo," Sherlock whined, leaning over John, desperately trying to grab the phone.

John put his arms down over the sides of the chair, turning his head away from Sherlock, whose breath smelled reeked of dark chocolate and rum. "Okay, okay, I've stopped recording, see? Now go away you boozehound."

Sherlock continued to gaze directly at John, who was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. Even though he was used to Sherlock's lack of personal space, he was never drunk all the other times he stood extremely close to him, literally breathing down his neck.

"Sherlock, please, go lay on the sofa. I'll make some tea. Very strong tea. We need to sober you up." 

John put the phone on the floor (not realizing it was still recording) and he attempted to get up. But Sherlock pushed him back down in the chair. "Sherlock, what the hell---"

"Jawn, do you realize you have the bluest eyes I've ever seen? It's like looking at the sky on a clear summer night." Sherlock's face practically touching John's. 

"Uh no, but thank you for telling me. Now, tea." John gently pushed Sherlock back but Sherlock moved again and now was straddling John.

"Sherlock, get off me!" John yelled. 

"No Jawn. I like it here. I like you. Sherlock likes Jawn. Sherlock likes Jawn very much." And with that, Sherlock's lips were on John's, warm and insistent.

John placed his hands on Sherlock's chest and pushed him away. "Sherlock, what in God's name was that for?"

Sherlock's eyes showed hurt. "Jawn doesn't like Sherlock?"

John's heart fluttered and he felt guilty after seeing his friend so dejected. "Of course I like you Sherlock. But you're very, very, very drunk right now, and I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

Sherlock gave John a loopy grin. "No regrets." He leaned in and kissed John again, and started to hump him.

"Sherlock, Jesus, stop that! You're like a horny dog!" John shot his hands out, but Sherlock grabbed them. He held onto them tightly and began to rut against John, his breathing labored.

John could do nothing but sit and watch this tall and beautiful man, with the most content and spaced out expression on his handsome face, heatedly bump and grind against him.

Then his cock twitched. _Christ, this is not the best time to start getting an erection!_ he thought.

He silently willed for his boner to go down, as if trying to use supernatural mind force to make it go down, but it wasn't working.

Sherlock moved hard and fast against him. "Jawn, my trousers are so tight," he whispered.

John's got even tighter. "Mine are too," he whispered back.

Sherlock's mouth was right by John's ear. "I think we should take them off."

John's eyes blew wide open, and he stared at Sherlock. "You sure?"

Sherlock nodded. "Very sure."

"But you're drunk. I'm not going to take advantage of you in that condition."

Sherlock nipped the bottom of John's earlobe with his teeth, causing the blond man to shiver and grow even harder. "I'm not drunk."

"What?" John peered intently at Sherlock, who was proudly smirking. 

"You know I don't like repeating myself, but whatever. "I'm not drunk. I was just pretending. It was an experiment."

John frowned for a bit. Then he pushed Sherlock away and threw the Union Jack pillow at him. "You berk! I should have known! So all this rutting against me and kissing was for show?"

"Absolutely not John. I've been wanting to do that for some time now." He grinned at his flatmate. "So, do you still want us to take our trousers off?"

John stood up and began walking towards Sherlock's bedroom. "Deduce it genius." He winked at him.

Sherlock immediately followed him. John's phone still lie on the floor, still recording.


	21. The Naked Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is sent some sexy pictures of his uni roommate's boyfriend. It's all a mistake...or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a few ideas about how this was going to go, and in the end I went back to Unilock, because I love writing Sherlock, John, and the other characters in their younger years.

Day Twenty One - Epistolary or Sexting

 

"John, are you sure you won't change your mind about coming out to Musgrave's for a pint with Sebastian and me?"

John smiled ruefully at his roommate. "I'm sure Vic. If Professor Lestrade hadn't surprised us with an exam for Monday, I'd be following you out the door. But I don't want to fail this class, so tonight, I'll be studying. Have a good time."

Victor Trevor smiled back. "I will. Don't wait up." He left, and John was alone to pour over his medical forensic textbook.

John was studying to be a doctor, but he had to take an elective, so he chose forensics. He'd always been interested in crime, so he thought it would be a fun course to take. It was, but having an actual DI as a teacher meant he expected a lot from his students, and he didn't shy away from giving them loads of work and exams. So the bulk of John's Friday nights were now spent in his dorm room at St. Bart's, studying or completing assignments. His actual medical classes weren't this intensive.

Two hours into his studies, John decided to take a break. He grabbed his phone that sat on his desk, retrieved his earbuds from one of the drawers, and plopped headfirst on his bed, pulling up the collection of Beatles tunes he'd loaded onto his phone.

He was checking his friend's Facebook pages. Almost everyone was going out tonight, and he smiled sadly wishing he was among them. 

Ten minutes later, his phone pinged indicating he had a text. He opened the message, and nearly dropped the phone when a picture of his roommate's boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes, appeared on the display. 

Sherlock was stark naked, making a duckface, one hand gripping his very erect cock. 

John gaped at the picture for a few seconds before turning the phone over in shock. Victor and Sherlock had been dating for five months, and Sherlock was a frequent visitor at their dorm. He'd entertained John with stories of how he deduced other students' lives just by observing them for few minutes. He even did it to John, correctly telling him about his sister's drinking and how she gave him her smartphone she got from her ex-girlfriend, that he was studying to be a medical student, and he used to play high school rugby until a shoulder injury sidelined him. John needless to say, was amazed and told him so. Sherlock had brightened at the compliments, and he and John formed an easy friendship.

But John never gave him his phone number, so unless Victor did, this text from Sherlock had to be a mistake. Sherlock meant to send the pic to his boyfriend.

John's phone pinged again. It can't be Sherlock texting again, he thought as he turned his phone face up. But it was.

Sherlock had sent another picture. He was still naked, and this time had one finger in his mouth, a seductive gaze on his face, and his hand still on his cock. He had typed underneath the picture _What's the matter, am I too hot for you?_

John quickly texted back _The matter is you're texting John instead of Victor. And how did you get my number anyway? Did Vic give it to you?_

A few minutes passed, so John assumed Sherlock had realized his mistake and resent the pictures to Victor. John rapidly deleted them from his phone and resumed listening to his music.

Another few minutes passed, and his phone pinged again. John thought it Sherlock texting him back to apologize, so he checked his message.

It wasn't an apology. It was another picture of Sherlock. He was still naked and this time, he was lying down on his bed, long legs spread, hips thrust up---and three fingers inside his anus. The caption this time read  _Stretching myself just for you. I hope you're getting turned on._

"Jesus Christ!" John exclaimed. "I do not need to see this!"

He fired off a reply. _Stop texting me Sherlock! I don't want to see any more naked pics of you! Go down to Musgrave's, that's where Vic's at._

There was no reply after a moment, so John went back to listening to music and web surfing. Five minutes later, his phone pinged again. He let out a frustrated groan. "I don't know what in the hell Sherlock's doing. If he's such a genius, why doesn't he realize he's sexting me and not Victor?"

John opened up his message and this time, it wasn't a picture, but a video.

Of Sherlock.

Still naked.

And jerking off.

And moaning John's name.

Not Victor, his boyfriend's name, but John's name.

John was filled with dread and worry. Sherlock had gotten his number. Sherlock meant to send the pictures and the video to him, not Victor.

John tried to rationalize why. Maybe it was one of his crazy experiments. Maybe he and Victor were having a spat and Sherlock was trying to make him jealous. It had happened before. During a frat party they all were invited to six weeks ago, Sherlock had kissed both Molly Hooper and Mike Stamford on purpose, and Victor had seethed with envy. John didn't even know what they were fighting about, but they made up two days later, and John had to bunk with Mike because the majority of the making up had been tons of sex in he and Victor's room.

John replied to Sherlock's little porno with the words _You're doing this as some experiment right? You and Vic fighting again? If so, leave me out of your immature little games and talk like reasonable adults. I don't need this shit._

John hopefully thought that was the end of it.

Then seconds later, his phone rang. It had to be Sherlock. John was more than ready to give him a piece of his mind and he answered the call. "Hello," he barked.

"John," came Sherlock's breathy baritone. "Please don't be angry with me---"

"Why shouldn't I be?" John interrupted icily. "You're being a little shit and playing games. I want no part of whatever ridiculous plot you've cooked up to make Victor jealous."

"John, I'm not cooking up a ridiculous plot as you so eloquently put it."

"Then why in the hell are you sending me naked pictures of yourself, and that video of you wanking off while saying my name? And how did you get my number?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. John waited for his explanation.

He heard a sigh and then Sherlock spoke again. "Mike gave your number to me. I told him I wanted it in case I couldn't get in contact with Victor and you are his dorm mate. But the reason I sent you the pictures and the video is because Victor and I broke up three weeks ago, and because I've...I've...I've fallen in love with you."

John was flabbergasted to say the least. Sherlock in love with him? Short, plain, ordinary him? It can't be true.

"Please tell me you're kidding Sherlock."

"I'm not kidding John! Why would you think that?" Sherlock sharply replied.

"You can't be in love with me. You're totally out of my league!" John cried.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Sherlock, compared to Victor I'm nothing. He's tall, gorgeous, and super-smart like you. I'm plain, dull, and less smart. Why would you want someone so ordinary?"

"You're not ordinary John and you're far from dull. You like my deductions. You call me brilliant and amazing when others call me freak and weirdo. You make me laugh with your stories about your friends and your classes. And yes, you may not be as smart as me, but you're much less of an idiot than everyone else in this school."

John snorted. "Gee, thanks a lot. Glad to know you think I'm not that much of a moron."

Sherlock chuckled. "I meant that as a compliment. You have your own kind of brilliance. You may not be as luminous as others, but you're a conductor of light. And I want you to be my light."

"Sherlock, as much as I hate to disrupt this declaration of affection, Victor never told me you two broke up."

"That's because he's embarrassed. He also doesn't know how I feel about you either."

John groaned and threw himself back on his bed. "That's just great Sherlock! You know what's going to happen once he does find out. He'll throw me out of our dorm and I'll have to find somewhere else to live!"

"You can move in with me in my flat," Sherlock said. "I have another bedroom. Hopefully we won't need it for long."

"Sherlock, I just can't pack up and move in with you. Besides, you know I don't love you. You're my friend, and so is Victor. I don't want to ruin our relationship. You don't know how difficult this is. You need to tell Victor the truth about why you broke up with him."

"Even if it means you end up homeless?"

"I hope that doesn't happen, but there should be no secrets between the three of us," John insisted.

Sherlock sighed again. "Yes John, I guess you're right. I'll talk to him tonight."

"You might want to wait until tomorrow, when he's sobered up---"

John was interrupted by Victor throwing open the door to the dorm, a furious look on his face. John blanched. He knew.

"I'll call you back," he quickly said and hung up the phone. He looked straight at Victor, waiting for him to say something.

"Were you on the phone with Sherlock?" Victor sharply asked.

John slowly nodded, carefully thinking what to say next. "He told me you two broke up three weeks ago...because of me. He said you didn't know. How did you find out?"

Victor sighed and sat on his bed, hands on top of his head. "I ran into Jim Moriarty at the pub. He told me that the reason Sherlock dumped me was that he fell in love with you." He chuckled bitterly. "He told me he needed some space." He shot John a hard glance. "I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed. I didn't know how to break it to you."

"Victor, please believe me when I tell you I didn't know until Sherlock called me tonight and told me. And I would never make fun of you for your relationship ending."

"I do believe you John. Jim said that you had no idea."

"But how did Jim find out? Granted, he's a nasty little tattletale, but still, this is something he shouldn't have known."

"He's just like Sherlock. He can deduce secrets and feelings out of people too, and apparently he was able to do it to him. So of course he had to let me know." Victor looked up, and John could see tears in his eyes. 

John suddenly felt guilty even though he knew he shouldn't. He was just as much in the dark as Victor. If anything, Sherlock should be the guilty one because he kept it secret.

"I'm so sorry Vic." He joined Victor on the bed and put his arm around him.

"You're not the one that needs to apologize John." He narrowed his eyes and set his lips in a thin line. "I think it's time I talked to Sherlock." He pulled out his phone.

"I'm going to give you some privacy. I'm going to go to the pizza place across the street and get something to eat." John got up and left the room. Victor dialed Sherlock's number and he answered on the first ring.

"I was expecting your call," Sherlock said contritely.

*****

_Two months later_

John was sitting at a table inside Angelo's, patiently waiting for his date to arrive. Angelo had already brought a candle and basket of bread over, a pleased smile on his face. 

John's date entered the restaurant, and when John saw him, his breath hitched. He was gorgeous.

Sherlock caught John's gaze and he grinned, walking over to him. "Hello John."

"Hello Sherlock."

Sherlock leaned down and gave his boyfriend a kiss. "Been waiting long?"

"Not at all."

Sherlock took his seat across from John. "Ah, I see Angelo's been here."

John laughed. "Yeah. I think he's been looking forward to this all week."

Sherlock reached across the table and gently placed his hand on top of John's, lightly rubbing circles on his tanned skin with his thumb. "I still can't believe we're together like this. After the stunt I pulled, sending you those pictures, not being honest with you upfront about how I felt...I never thought this would happen."

John smiled at him and squeezed Sherlock's hand. "It's lucky things worked out like they did."

Sherlock brought John's hand to his lips and softly kissed each of his fingers, which made John shiver in anticipation of what might come later. "I love you," he told John.

"I love you too." John removed his hand from Sherlock's and brought it to his face, brushing Sherlock's sharp cheekbone with his knuckles.

It had taken some time, but John had forgiven Sherlock and with Victor's blessing, decided to enter into a relationship with him. The first few weeks just consisted of coffee dates or talking walks around London, and then it gradually became more romantic. On the day of being together two months, they became intimate. Sherlock was a terrific lover and was very patient with John, covering him in kisses and exploring his body with his hands, mouth, and tongue. It had been the best night of his life.

The two were so lost in each other's eyes they didn't see Victor walk in and up to their table. "Hey you lovebirds!" he called to them.

Both men turned to see their friend. "Hey Vic! What brings you here?" John happily asked.

"Like you, I have a date here tonight. He's parking the car."

"That's great Victor, I'm happy for you," Sherlock sincerely replied. The two had buried the hatchet and were now good friends.

The door opened and a very tall, muscular blond man with a military cut and penetrating blue eyes entered, heading straight for Victor. Sherlock and John saw him approach and gave Victor nods of approval. 

"Sherlock, John, this is James Sholto. James, my friends Sherlock and John."

"It's nice to meet you," John said.

"Likewise," James replied.

"I must say Victor, you've done very well," Sherlock chimed. 

"Yes, I have," Victor said cheerfully.  

James turned to Victor and kissed him on the cheek. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"I'll get Angelo, he's got our table." Victor beamed at his friends. "Well, enjoy your dinner you two. Maybe one night we can double date."

"That sounds like fun," John said. Sherlock nodded his head in agreement. 

Victor and James went to find Angelo. John looked at Sherlock. "It's nice to see Victor has someone."

"Yes, but I never pegged him to be attracted to a military man," Sherlock mused.

"I noticed that too. James screams soldier. At least he's happy."

"Just like we are." Sherlock leaned forward to kiss John again, thinking about some new pictures to send his boyfriend. 

 

 

 

 

 


	22. Your Body is a Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disastrous date and a good talking to from Mrs. Hudson makes Sherlock realize just how much he appreciates John, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place several months after A Study in Pink. Title taken from the John Mayer song (in all honesty I can't stand him or this song, but the title just fits today's challenge).

Day Twenty- Two - Body Worship

 

"Don't wait up John, I have a date tonight."

John nearly chokes on his tea. "You? Have a date?" he asks incredulously. 

Sherlock huffs at his flatmate. "Problem John?"

"Well, it's just that you keep saying your a high functioning sociopath and you're married to your work, and you did turn me down when I tried to ask you out at Angelo's---"

"The man I'm seeing tonight is a university professor John. He teaches chemistry at Cambridge. We share the same level of intelligence, which means interesting and vibrant conversations on topics that both interest us. What could I possibly talk to you about, besides inane things like the solar system and rugby, which I've already deleted?"

For a second, Sherlock saw the extremely hurt look on John's face as he continued to prepare for his date, but he put it out of his mind. There was no reason for John to feel like that, he was only speaking the truth. John's mind didn't work on the level his did, and he doubted he could keep up a stimulating conversation about compounds and reactions.

John finished his tea, holding his tongue. This wasn't the first time Sherlock had insulted him, and he just didn't have it in him to say something sarcastic back. So all he said was. "Have a nice time with your professor Sherlock. I have work in the morning so I probably won't see you until after five tomorrow evening."

Sherlock had already grabbed his Belstaff and was out the door, not hearing John break down in tears.

*****

The date was turning into a complete disaster.

It didn't start off too bad at first, although Professor Reuben McDermott was a little late. He had blamed it on traffic, even though Sherlock knew he'd taken the tube, but he let the fib slide.

The restaurant Reuben picked was a cozy, elegant bistro not too far from Cambridge. Many of London's educational elite dined there, and Reuben was a regular.

Sherlock had been eager to discuss science with Reuben, but all he wanted to talk about was how awful and idiotic his students are, which of his faculty was sleeping with whom, and complained about a colleague who was promoted to a head position in the science department, when it should have been him.

Sherlock couldn't get a word in edgewise and his thoughts turned to John. It was during one of Reuben's asinine and dull rants that he realized how much of a jerk he'd been to him this evening, insulting his intellect and dismissing his interests. He remembered how devastated his blogger had looked after he insulted him, how close he was to tears. He had sounded just like Reuben.

Sherlock now felt like the worst person in the world. John was his best friend, the only one that put up with him and his quirks, the only one that said how amazing and brilliant and extraordinary he was when he made his deductions. Anything Sherlock asked, no matter how ridiculous or dangerous it was, John did, even if he tried to argue why he shouldn't. John did the shopping. John made the tea. John made sure Sherlock ate. He bandaged up his wounds and scrapes. He defended him against Donovan and Anderson. He'd just sigh when he found body parts in the fridge and went back to his reading and blogging. He shot a serial killing cabbie the first night they met, saving his life for God's sake. 

And how did Sherlock thank him for all of that? With unkind digs and comments. 

He wouldn't be surprised if he got home to find John gone, packed up, moved out.

And he couldn't have that. He couldn't have John leave him. John saved him. John calmed him when his mind got to be too much with his silly conversations about the solar system and rugby. If John left him, he was sure he'd go back on drugs again.

He couldn't imagine life without John. Without seeing his beautiful dark blue eyes that at times would show tinges of brown when the light hit them at just the right moment. Without smiling at the way his blond hair shone in the sun, and darkened to a lovely bronze after it got wet from a shower. Without seeing that gorgeous, friendly smile that caused the most adorable crinkles under his eyes. Without having those calloused thick hands grab him to protect him. Without seeing those sweet ears that stuck out just a little too much after he got his hair cut. Without seeing that luscious tongue that frequently would come out to lick his rosy lips.

He started to wonder what he looked like underneath those hideous jumpers, Mister Rogers inspired cardigans, and sensible jeans. He knew he was fit, being an ex-soldier on top of chasing criminals and running after him all the time. He wondered what his scar looked like after that bullet wound tore into it. He wondered what other scars and marks were on his skin, and he wanted to catalog every single one with his fingers.

Sherlock wanted to rush home to John, to apologize for how he treated him. He hoped John would forgive him, stay with him, and say yes when he asked if he could see John, touch John, show John how much he appreciated and cared for him.

He just wanted to be with John, at their flat, alone, instead of in this pretentious restaurant with this pretentious professor.

"Sherlock!" Reuben's voice jolted him out of his thoughts on John. "Haven't you listened to a single word I said? If you're not invested in our date, maybe we should---"

Sherlock stood up, frowning hard at Reuben. "Yes, I think we should end this date. I came here expecting stimulating conversation and all I'm getting is nothing but moronic gossip and sanctimonious rants that would sound better in manifesto on a crackpot's website. Also, you're more upset that the professor who got the department head job discovered you were stealing his sleeping pills and ended your sexual relationship because you were using him to further your own career."

Reuben's brown eyes widened in shock. "W---What??? How could you possibly know that I---wait just a minute! How dare you talk to me like that!"

"I do dare, and it should have been done a long time ago." Sherlock took out his wallet and threw a few notes in his direction. "I'm leaving now. I'm going back home to my wonderful, brilliant flatmate. I treated him horribly before I left and I need to get back to him before he decides he no longer wants to be my flatmate. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure, but it hasn't." And with that, he slipped on his Belstaff and sauntered away, leaving Reuben to do nothing but sputter and mutter about his ruined evening.

*****

A cold rain started to fall quite steadily as Sherlock entered the hallway of his flat, wearily going up the seventeen steps to his front door. Dread coursed through his body as he thought about what to say to John. If John is still there, he thought darkly.

The door to Mrs. Hudson's flat opened and his landlady stood in the doorway. She cast a stony glare in the detective's direction. "There you are Sherlock. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Sherlock sighed. John must have told Mrs. Hudson about what he said to him earlier tonight. "Yes Mrs. Hudson, I am, and I'm going to make things right with John."

Mrs. Hudson continued to scold him. "John is a lovely man with the patience of Job. There aren't many who would put up with the way you talk, with your insults and catty remarks. Honestly, you're worse than a teenage girl sometimes!"

Sherlock sighed again, his irritation increasing. "Mrs. Hudson, I already said I'm going to apologize to John. Now will you please stop your prattling and let me get on with it!"

She wasn't having any of it. She gripped his arm and held it tightly. "Now you listen to me young man. I've about had it with your incorrigible attitude. You think you're better than everyone simply because you can tell someone's life story just by what they had for lunch. I'm telling you you aren't better than anyone else, and you better think long and hard before you open your mouth. I went to your flat earlier tonight to bring up some spice cake I'd made, and do you know when John opened the door, I could see he'd been crying."

Sherlock's face turned ashen gray and he looked down at his Italian loafers, shame and guilt washing over him like a tidal wave, beginning to feel a little bit nauseous. 

"John wouldn't tell me at first what had happened, he tried to blame it on allergies, but I knew better. So I pressed and he finally told me what you'd said to him. Why Sherlock? Why do you say such awful things to people who love and care about you? Why do you make people feel so worthless! I just don't understand!"

Sherlock turned away, embarrassed and feeling like a monster. "I can't help it Mrs. Hudson. My mind is faster than my mouth."

"Well, you'd better start helping it. I'm surprised you're still alive after some of the terrible things you say. One of these days, you're going to insult the wrong person and it's going to lead to your funeral. You may think I'm just some dotty old landlady, but you better take my words to heart."

She released her grip on him and bore her eyes into hers. "John loves you. Not just as a friend either."

Sherlock shook his head. "Mrs. Hudson please. John does not love me."

"Oh yes he does. Now, he didn't come out and say it directly, but I know he does. I think he's loved you since that very night you showed him the flat. And deep down, I think you love him too."

Sherlock didn't reply. He couldn't reply. Because Mrs. Hudson was right. He'd agreed to the date with Reuben because he didn't think John would want him or love him the way he wanted or loved John. So he insulted him, made him feel unimportant and insignificant---because he didn't want John feeling that way about him.

"You do, don't you?" Mrs. Hudson pressed, her voice much more gentle.

Sherlock just nodded. She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Well then, get in there and tell him how you feel. I want you two to kiss and make up---literally!"

"I only hope he accepts my apology," Sherlock lamented.

"John's a reasonable man. I think you'll be surprised."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to Mrs. Hudson's cheek. "Thank you." He hurried to his flat and when he disappeared behind the door, Mrs. Hudson folded her hands together and said a silent prayer to the ceiling.

*****

The flat was dark save for one lamp left on in the sitting area. There were two empty tea mugs sitting on the coffee table. John didn't bother to take them to the sink for washing. Sherlock knew that meant he'd been upset after his talk with Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock rushed up the few stairs to John's room. He quietly opened the door, trying not to make a lot of noise as he padded towards John's bed.

The ex-Army doctor was asleep on top of the bed, just in a white vest and boxers. His bedside lamp was still on, and in the dim glow Sherlock could see John's arms. They were tan, and they were a bit muscular. Sherlock was fascinated by them. 

He moved closer, taking great care to gaze at the scar on his injured shoulder. His heart fluttered, his chest tightened at the sight of the puckered skin and the starburst pattern that formed when cold metal hit warm flesh.

Sherlock ached to touch it, but John looked so peaceful and calm he was afraid to wake him. Afraid of what he'd say upon seeing Sherlock. But he had to take that chance. 

Sherlock took off his black leather gloves and stuffed them in his coat pockets. He slowly extended his right arm, his hand reaching out, and gingerly stroked John's scar.

"I'm sorry John," he nearly whispered. "I'm sorry for what I said to you tonight. And if it makes you feel any better, my date with Reuben was a total disaster. He was horrible. He was rude, insulting, arrogant...just like I was to you. Apparently there is such a thing as karma."

He continued to caress John's scar. "I left early because I wanted to get back to you. I can't live without you John. While I was at the restaurant, I only thought about you. How wonderful you are, how lucky I am to have you in my life...others would just give up and leave me. I don't want you to leave me. I want you to stay here with me forever. I love you John Watson. You keep me right."

Sherlock got a bit bolder and began to ruffle his hand through John's hair. He must have had a shower before bed, because it was soft and silky. "I love everything about you. Your sense of humor, your compassion, your patience with me. I also love your smile, your eyes, your ears, your nose, your mouth, your hair, and especially your scar. It's fascinating. You're fascinating."

Suddenly, John opened his eyes and looked up towards Sherlock, who needless to say had a startled expression on his handsome face. A sleepy smile soon appeared upon his lips.

"I love you too, you impossible, infuriating git. Now take off your clothes and get in bed with me, and I'll let you worship my body like it was meant to."

Sherlock wasted no time in heeding John's command. Soon he was just in his boxer briefs, laying on top of John, tingles coursing through him as skin met skin, ready to explore all of the man he so truly loved as his lips met John's in a warm and passionate kiss.

 

 


	23. Can't Keep It Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was the most difficult to write so far, so it's very short with no smut scenes.  
> Title from the song Benedict sings in _Osage August County._

Day Twenty-Three - Priest/Religion

John had sat in the front pew inside the Church of Perpetual Grace for nearly two hours, waiting for the suspect to show himself. To John, it was more like the Church of Perpetual Boredom.

He and Sherlock had been working case involving a serial arsonist who was torching Catholic churches. Sherlock figured the firebug was a disgruntled former priest named Stanley Loomis, who sought revenge when the faith he so loved and was a part of for ten years had been made to leave his parish after a sex scandal involving the married secretary of the church office. 

Sherlock deduced that the Church of Perpetual Grace was the next one based on a complicated algorithm that John couldn't even begin to comprehend. All he knew is that he was a sitting duck for a disturbed man with a gasoline can and a match.

 Sherlock had gone off to parts unknown like he always did and John wouldn't be surprised if he met the arsonist halfway and managed to get injured. And John would always tend to his wounds, ever the caring and compassionate doctor. John would always be there for him, because John loved him.

Admitting he loved Sherlock had been hard for him, especially since Sherlock frequently expressed he didn't do sentiment, even when he seemed to be smitten by Irene Adler. Sherlock insisted it wasn't romantic, he just admired her mind and boldness. In a way Irene was like a female version of Sherlock---stubborn, cruel at times, manipulative, had no qualms about drugging people, and at times just didn't want to wear clothes. It would have been natural for Sherlock to be attracted to someone who had similar qualities and habits, not a crippled ex-soldier with trust issues.

John's phone buzzed, and he retrieved it from his pocket. It was a text from Lestrade.

_Loomis was spotted walking to the church. He was apprehended and on his way to the Met. All is clear._

John heaved a huge sigh of relief. He texted the cop back.

_Great! Does Sherlock know?_

_I'm about to send him a text._

_I'll do it Greg. I'm heading out of the church now. Thanks._

John stood up, and then for some reason, he decided to find the confessional. Maybe if he revealed his love for Sherlock to a priest, it would make him feel better. Of course, he'd have to be a bit vague and not say Sherlock was a man, since he in was in a Catholic church and homosexuality was considered sin. He didn't know why. He'd come to accept love was love after he saw his sister Harry and Clara get together, and he'd abandoned his own Catholic upbringing. He hadn't stepped foot inside a church since he was a teenager.

John walked past the altar, and off to the left was the confessional booth. He took a deep breath, clenched and released his fists, and stepped inside.

"Father, if you're in there, I'd like to make a confession," he softly said.

There were a few moments of silence, and then a deep voice in a thick Italian accent answered. "How long has it been since your last confession?" 

"A very long time," John replied, with a hint of regret. He ran his hands through his blond hair and sighed.

"Tell me then, what is this confession?"

He shut his eyes. It was now or never. "I've fallen in love with someone, but the thing is, this person doesn't know, and I'm afraid they won't love me back if I tell them."

"How do you know this person won't love you back?" the priest asked.

"This person well, they're unique. I've never met anyone like them. They're scarily intelligent, sometimes arrogant...okay, a lot arrogant, but at the same time, there is a soft side that they don't want anyone to really see. But when they bring it out, it's the most beautiful thing in the world."

"Interesting," the priest responded. "You say 'they're.' You're not mentioning a gender. Is there a reason why?"

John paled. He didn't want to tell the priest it was a man, and he didn't want to be lectured on how loving another man was wrong. So he said nothing.

"Is this person you're in love with another man?" the priest inquired. 

John shook his head but he didn't verbally confirm.

"Ah, I see," the priest softly murmured.

"No you don't really. You're going to tell me I'm a filthy sinner, that I'm going to hell, that I need counseling." John could feel his face getting hotter, and his voice was rising in anger. "I understand you're bound by your beliefs but I can't help what I feel, and I'm not ashamed. Sherlock's the best thing that's happened to me in my entire life."

John let out a long breath and he was close to tears. "I think I should go. Goodbye Father."

He rushed out of the confessional, but didn't get far from it when he felt two arms grasp his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. "John," a male voice called, almost pleading.

"Sherlock," John murmured.

Sherlock turned him around so the two were facing each other. "Hello John."

"Where did you come from? I was going to text you. They caught Loomis before he could enter the church."

Sherlock was grinning madly. "I was busy hearing a very important confession."

John's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull and he groaned. "No...it couldn't have been...it was you pretending to be the priest on the other side?" Embarrassment flooded him. Sherlock heard everything. 

"A perfect hiding place to wait for a deranged arsonist and ex-priest." 

Sherlock peered directly into John's blue eyes. "That was a lovely confession John. You're a much braver man than I, telling what you thought was a priest about your love for another man. I could never do anything like that."

John looked down at the ground. "I feel like a fool."

Sherlock took two fingers and tenderly lifted John's chin back up to meet his gaze. "No John. You're not foolish at all, because I feel the same way about you too."

John was floored. "But how can you...I mean...after all that happened with Irene..."

"Nothing happened with Irene. I didn't love her. I couldn't love her. I was already in love with you."

And to prove his point, Sherlock gently pressed his lips to John's.

"Let's go home John."

"Lestrade's waiting for us. He'd thought you'd like to be there when and if Loomis confessed."

Sherlock shook his head. "Your confession was the only one I wanted to hear today."

He kissed John again, all the tension of the case and the moment in the confessional rapidly draining away. Sherlock loved him, and right now that was all that mattered.

And later that afternoon, 221 B Baker Street was the only witness to the sounds of flesh coming together on soft cotton sheets, two voices each crying out in pleasure and breathlessly moaning each other's names, and making vows of faith and love that didn't need to be saved for a church.


	24. Sex Life, Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy & fun Omegaverse.  
> Alpha Sherlock just wants some alone time with his omega, John. The universe is rarely so lazy when it comes to interruptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not following canon, but it's supposed to be set after S4.

Day Twenty-Four- Coitus Interruptus

Friday evening was shaping up to be a great night. Sherlock and John had enjoyed a lovely dinner at Angelo's at their usual table. Even though John's next heat was a month away, his scent of sage and citrus was sweeter and potent than ever, which meant arousal, and Sherlock loved it. He was looking forward to a night alone with his gorgeous omega.

When Mike Stamford introduced them at St. Bart's seven years ago, Sherlock was instantly attracted to the small blond with the psychosomatic limp and steely exterior buried underneath cozy jumpers and blue jeans. And when John shot a serial killing cabbie in cold blood with one perfect hit, Sherlock knew John was the omega for him, and asked to bond with him.

The cab pulled up in front of Baker Street. Sherlock and John got out and Sherlock all but dragged John up the steps to their flat, their scents strong and mixing with each other. Love was in the air. Well, more like lust.

Their three kids--- six year-old twins Rowan and Hudson and three year-old Marshall, were at Greg and Mycroft's house for the weekend. John didn't have to be at the clinic until Monday. Sherlock requested (ordered) that Greg not contact him with any cases the next two days. It was going to be a mini sex holiday and Sherlock made sure there were going to be no interruptions.

The universe is rarely so lazy when it comes to interruptions.

An hour later, while Sherlock was balls deep inside John and comfortably knotted, there was an insistent knock at the door. "Ignore it love," Sherlock said, holding John tight while licking and nuzzling his bondbite.

The knocking continued. "GO AWAY!" Sherlock roared.

"Maybe we better get that yeah? It could be about the kids," John said.

Sherlock sighed and pulled out of John with a growl. "You stay right here. I won't be but a minute." He threw on his blue dressing gown and angrily stomped into the living room and to the door. He opened it, and scowled when he saw Molly Hooper standing there. Her face was red and stained with tears, but Sherlock's expression didn't soften.

"What do you want?" Sherlock barked.

Molly just looked at him and burst into tears.

"Great," Sherlock muttered. "Well, I guess you better come in since you obviously aren't making any attempts to leave."

Just then, John appeared. His face fell when he saw Molly. "Molly! What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Oh John!" Molly cried, running right to him, throwing her arms around him. "Billy doesn't want to bond with me! He wants to leave London and travel the world to "find himself."

John returned her embrace, rubbing her back. "It'll be okay Molly. There's other alphas in the sea." He glared over her shoulder at Sherlock. "I knew your idea to set up Molly with Billy Wiggins was a bad one."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He'd thought it was a great idea. Both Molly and Billy were lonely. He was an alpha, she an omega, and both liked science.

"What did you do to drive him away Molly?" Sherlock asked.

"Sherlock!" John yelled.

Molly cried again.

*****

Molly poured her heart out in 221 B for two hours. It was eleven o'clock when she left, her mood improved when John promised to set her up with one of his co-workers, an unbonded alpha doctor. 

Sherlock was still horny and was instantly on John the moment she was out of the flat. "Come on John, let's get back to what we were doing before all that drama."

"You're incredible, you know that?" John said, shaking his head.

"Obviously," he replied haughtily.

"Incredible, as I mean in incredibly inconsiderate towards Molly's feelings. She's devastated. She thought Billy was the one. You know he reminds her of you."

"John, can we forget about Molly's dreadful sex life and focus on ours?"

"Sherlock, can you please just...mmmph!"

The detective's lips consumed the doctor's, and Sherlock picked up John and carried him off to their bedroom. It didn't take John long to feel the stirrings of lust once again, and Molly's romantic dilemma was soon forgotten.

*****

"Oh yeah, that's it love, right there, oh yeah, that's it...Sherlock!" John hollered out. The omega was lying sideways on the bed with Sherlock behind him, thrusting into him fiercely.

Just as Sherlock was reaching around to grab John's cock, John's phone rang. The unmistakable sounds of "I Hear You Knocking" (But You Can't Come In) played. It was John's ringtone for Mycroft, and Mycroft never called unless it was an emergency.

John reached for the phone, Sherlock still knotted to him. "John, I can't believe you're answering that fat git's call while we're engaging in highly pleasurable intercourse!"

John ignored his alpha's whining and answered. "Hello," he said breathlessly.

"Ah John, I'm sorry to interrupt your copulating, but Gregory and I are at St. Bart's A&E with the children.

"Oh God, what happened? John asked, worry seeping to his voice, not perturbed at all Mycroft knew what he and Sherlock were up to. He was used to the Holmes' brothers deduction powers. Sherlock stilled, still knotted in his omega, listening intently.

"Rowan and Hudson overdosed on cough syrup. We locked the medicine cabinet soon after we brought them home. Hudson picked the lock, took the syrup out, and he and his sister drained the entire bottle. We found them on the bathroom floor, acting very lethargic. The doctor is with them now, administering ipecac."

 John couldn't even be bothered to get upset or horrified. They were Sherlock's children after all and inherited his love for total wrecklessness. Not to mention knowing how to pick a lock. 

"Good," John replied calmly and flatly. Let them puke it all up. That'll teach them not to go where they shouldn't and drink what they shouldn't."

Mycroft snorted. "I had the same reaction. But they are my brother's children, I'm not surprised." 

"Thank you for taking them to the hospital and thank Greg for me too. How's Marsh?"

“Marshall is just fine, although we had a difficult time quieting him. He ran down the halls yelling 'Rowan and Hudson are bloody idiots' repeatedly."

John laughed. "Well, he's right."

"I'd better go John. Gregory is in the room with the children and I should be there when the twins start to regurgitate the cough syrup."

"Okay Mycroft. Give me a call later and update them on their condition." 

John ended the call and sighed. Sherlock rested his chin on John's shoulder, frowning. "What's happened with our children?" 

"You mean your children. The twins broke into Mycroft and Greg's locked medicine cabinet and decided to consume an entire bottle of cough syrup. They had to take them to A&E so a doctor could administer ipecac. Definitely a Sherlock act if I ever heard one."

"Hmm. It appears my lock picking lessons worked."

Sherlock was banned to the couch for the rest of the night.

*****  
Sherlock awoke to see John, standing stark naked and fully erect above him, a wide grin on his face. "Hey you."

Sherlock's eyes bulged as John climbed on top of him. Before he could say anything, John caught his lips in a tender kiss.

"I'm sorry that I kicked you out of bed. Mycroft just called. The kids are home and fine, all asleep."

He stuck his hand down Sherlock's dressing gown and began to caress his pale chest. "If you're still up for another round of knotting, want to come back to the bedroom? I don't think we'll have any more interruptions, it's a little after two in the morning."

John felt Sherlock's cock harden against him and he smiled. He got off his alpha, winked at him, gave a little wiggle of his arse and was bouncing towards the bedroom.

He only made it as far as the hallway. The following morning, both he and Sherlock were sporting serious cases of rugburn.


	25. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wintertime brings out a lovely mix of smell, sound, taste, sight, and touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fluffy fic that takes place after S4.

Winter had arrived in London and with it brought colder-than-normal temperatures and a significant snowstorm that shut down the primary schools and some offices. The clinic that John worked at surprisingly decided to close, as it was a small practice and the few patients scheduled for that day were re-routed to St. Bart's or other clinics in town. So John was home, and he decided to make the most of his unexpected day off. 

It was seven a.m. and Rosie and Sherlock were still sleeping. John was in the kitchen, assembling ingredients and equipment for breakfast. With busy schedules, a morning meal during a weekday usually meant oatmeal and juice for Rosie, bacon and eggs for John, and whatever John made Sherlock eat (despite the detective's protests that eating slowed him down). But today was going to be special.

*****

Sherlock stretched and yawned and rolled over to give his lover a morning kiss but he saw John's side of the bed was empty. He stood up, stretched again, and thought of how John would press soft kisses to the sliver of pale flesh that was exposed when his T-shirt would rise up just so. 

He padded over to the window and saw the snow falling heavily. He smiled as he watched the crisp white flakes descend from the sky, turning Baker Street into a winter wonderland. Generally he couldn't stand snow, but since John didn't have to go to work he was grateful for it today. It would just be a lazy snow day with the two of them and little Rosie. The youngest Watson had earned a huge wing in Sherlock's mind palace next to John, as well as a place in his heart.

Sherlock threw on his tan dressing gown and the smell hit him as soon as he opened the door. It was the smell of bacon frying. He took a good long sniff. It smelled inviting, and his mouth started to water, as he hadn't eaten much dinner last night.

He strolled into the kitchen and not only was his nostrils inhaling the scent of meat cooking, he heard singing. John was singing along to a song playing on a portable radio plugged into a space on the countertop. Rosie was in her high chair, making sounds along with her daddy as she clapped her hands together. 

Sherlock's face broke out into a huge grin. He'd never imagine the sights and sounds of something so domestic would make him giddy. But it wasn't just anyone, it was John and Rosie, his beautiful blogger and their adorable fourteen month old daughter. And he loved them both so much.

John turned and when he saw Sherlock, he stopped singing and smiled. "Come on in and join the fun. I'm making bacon, eggs, and chocolate chip pancakes."

One of Sherlock's eyebrows raised. "Chocolate chip pancakes? What's the special occasion John?"

"It's snowing, I don't have to work, which means time to make an actual decent breakfast that we can all sit down and enjoy." He turned back to the batter sizzling on the stove.

Sherlock sat down in his chair, next to Rosie, who was banging the palms of her hands on the tray attached to her chair. "Dadalock," she greeted him with a smile, showing off some of her new teeth that came in. 

He smiled and sweetly kissed her forehead. "Hi bee," Sherlock said, using his pet name for her. 

John placed a plateful of bacon on the table and pulled out milk and juice. "Tea love?" he asked Sherlock.

"Yes, thank you." Sherlock reached out and grabbed a slice of bacon and started to chew, savoring the salty taste.

John handed Sherlock a sippie cup. "Can you put some milk in it and give it to Rosie?"

Sherlock nodded and did it, handing the cup to the little girl, who squealed happily and began to drink.

In a matter of minutes, John had two steaming mugs of tea on the table and a stack of fluffy pancakes. "Sherlock, can you get the syrup out of the fridge?"

"Of course John."

"Ta."

Soon all three were settling down to a delicious breakfast. John fed Rosie small bites of pancake, which she took enthusiastically. Sherlock ate one as well. "Mmm, this is wonderful," he praised, loving the taste of the buttery and chocolaty concoction that melted in his mouth. "I didn't even know we had chocolate chips."

"I bought them at Tesco a few weeks ago as a special treat for Rosie. Every now and then I give them to her. I figured I could put them to good use. It's been a while since I've had pancakes."

Sherlock grinned. "Me too. This has been lovely."

John gazed out the window at the falling snow. "Seeing all that snow makes it a lot homier, you know?"

"Indeed John. Do you fancy bundling up Rosie and taking a walk this afternoon?"

"I think that would be great. We could do with getting out. We haven't had a chance to unwind, with that basher case taking up most of your time and my long hours at the clinic." Sherlock had spent almost a month solving the case of brutal attacks by two burglars who would break into homes and if the residents were there, would hit them over the head, knocking them unconscious. The culprits turned out to be a pair of uni students who weren't hurting for money, but did it because they were looking for a thrill. Now they were safely locked up behind bars, bail denied for both.

John meanwhile, had been bombarded nonstop along with his fellow co-workers at the clinic with an influx of patients with nasty upper respiratory infections. He was lucky he didn't catch anything. 

Now he could take a day to refresh and enjoy the time with his little girl and the man he loved.

*****

The streets of London during a snow storm was one of the most beautiful sights John had ever seen, besides Sherlock of course. The flakes had eased up to flurries, and the main streets and some of the sidewalks were passable. 

Rosie was strapped into her stroller, bundled up in a lavender quilted coat, white fleece hat, and a scarf the same color as Sherlock's wrapped snugly against her neck. She mumbled happily to herself as John pushed her and Sherlock walked beside him, taking in all the sights, sounds, and smells of the city.

Everything seemed fresher and purer after a snowfall. Regent's Park had been turned into a wintry paradise of white and frost. The three walked through, enjoying the crisp cold air. Sherlock's mind felt rejuvenated; this is exactly what he needed after working on that difficult case.

 The pond wasn't completely frozen over but there were slivers of ice nestled on top of the water. Rosie sat transfixed by the scene, and her two dads stood by the water enjoying the sight as well. 

****

Rosie was sound asleep when John and Sherlock returned to the flat. While John put her in her crib Sherlock started a fire. Soon the two were sitting on the floor in front of the flames, entranced by the warm orange glow and crackling sounds. 

John leaned in to kiss Sherlock who eagerly responded. John's hands reached for Sherlock's belt and he unbuckled it, quickly pulling down his trousers and underwear. Sherlock hummed with pleasure as John worked magic on his cock with his gorgeous mouth and before long he was gasping and spilling into his lover. 

John, ever the trooper, took it all with a grin and then placed a passionate kiss on Sherlock's mouth. "Later tonight I'll reciprocate," Sherlock promised with a wink. He took John into his arms, loving the feel of his doctor and the softness of the favorite oatmeal colored jumper he wore. 

"This has been a very pleasant day, I don't want it to end," John said, snuggling even closer. 

"Me neither. Just being here like this with you has such a calming affect on my mind. I love it, and I love you John."

John replied with a tender kiss. Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder. Tomorrow they would be back to their hurried, busy lives but for now, it was just them together in each other's arms, enjoying all the senses this peaceful winter day brought. 

 


	26. Observing But Not Seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock witnesses an intimate moment that happens thanks to him not being able to keep his mouth shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heading back into the world of Unilock for a rare pair story.

Day Twenty-Six - Voyeurism

 

John stormed into the chemistry lab, a look of fury etched in his face, his dark blue eyes flashing with anger. His lab partner Molly Hooper, who was standing at a table mixing liquids, looked up and saw his stormy glare. "John?" she said quietly. "What's wrong?"

"I've had it Molly. I'm done with that arrogant, self-righteous, know-it-all prick!" he spat, slamming his rucksack on the floor and putting his hands on his hips.

"Let me guess...Sherlock," Molly surmised, shaking her head.

"Who else?" John plopped himself on a stool and sighed in frustration. "I don't know how I managed to stay friends with him for the last six months. He's a hateful prat."

"What did he say this time?" Molly inquired while gently setting her beakers down on top of the steel counter.

"I was trying to help him with an art history assignment. He knows everything about science, but when it comes to history he's pants. He mentioned an incorrect fact about Picasso which I happened to know, and when I attempted to tell him, he went off. Told me that my attempt to lecture him was a waste of time, and how could a tiny mind like mine know anything about art, and that I should stick to subjects that don't tax me, like rugby and blowjobs." 

"I don't know what's come over him John. He's gotten so nastier the last few weeks," Molly mused.

John nodded. "That's when I lost it. I screamed at him that it's a wonder he has the few friends he does because he's such a horrible, spiteful, pompous arsehole, and that it would be on him that he failed his class." John looked down at the floor, and this time, a flash of regret crossed his handsome face. "I also called him a freak and told him never to come near me again, because I no longer wanted to be his friend. I know I shouldn't have used that word since that's what everyone else calls him, but I was just so mad. I still am. I mean it Molly, our friendship is over with."

Molly approached John and put a comforting arm around him. "Don't beat up on yourself John. Sherlock needs to learn to control his mouth. He also said some horrible things to me too. He also insulted my intelligence and my lack of a love life." She snorted. "Like he's one to talk about romance."

A tear ran down her cheek. Dammit, she did not want to cry over Sherlock Holmes, and especially in front of John Watson.

She felt strong arms wrap around her, and a voice murmuring into her ear. "Don't cry Molly. Don't let Sherlock get to you like that."

Molly reveled in feeling the warmth of her friend, and she began to feel better. She glanced up at John. "Thank you John. I won't." She let out a little chuckle. "I can see why you're so popular with the ladies and the guys on campus. Anyone would be lucky to land someone like you."

John laughed, and he reached up with his thumb to wipe the left side of Molly's tear-stained face. "Thanks for the compliment Molly. You're pretty cute you know."

The two gazed at each other for a few seconds, and then without warning, John leaned in and gently brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't quite a kiss, more like a show of affectionate friendship.

Molly was surprised by the near kiss. "John," she said, her eyes wide.

The two exchanged another look, and then the two were kissing properly now, arms wrapped around each other tightly. John's hands wandered to either side of Molly's head, fingers twirled in her soft brown hair. Molly had her hands placed firmly on John's lower back.

The kiss was electric and sent sparks through both of their bodies. John broke away, panting. "Molly, would you like to---if you don't, that's okay, it's just this feels really good and I---"

"Yes John," she replied roughly. "I would. I'm not looking for anything long term. Let's just be two friends with benefits tonight. I think this is something we both need right now."

John took Molly's hand and led her out of the chemistry lab. "I know the perfect place for us. Let's go."

*****

Sherlock was dashing towards the chemistry lab, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Sadness, regret, determination...and love. He had blown it with John when his friend tried to help him by lashing out and insulting him. Now John didn't want to be his friend anymore. John called him a freak, and hearing that word from the one person he loved more than anything else in this world had cut him to the bone. He needed to find John and apologize, and beg for him to be friends again. In the six months he'd known John, he'd come to immensely enjoy their time together. He hated being away from him, and now thanks to his big, brutal mouth he ruined the only relationship worth having. He just hoped John would forgive him and they could patch things up...and maybe slowly they could be more than friends.

Sherlock frequently imagined running his fingers through John's shiny blond hair, his hands running up and down John's muscular torso, and he imagined what it would feel to have John kiss him, massage his dark curls, and even John's mouth wrapped around his cock. He was never one that craved intimacy and sex, but he did with John. It could only be John.

Sherlock entered the chemistry lab and saw that it was empty. He frowned. He knew John was coming here to meet Molly, his chemistry partner. Then he winced, remembering how he also insulted Molly. Now there were two friends he had to apologize to.

Maybe he and Molly decided to go somewhere else. But where? Think Sherlock, think, he told himself. It's what you do best.

It was like a light bulb turned on inside his head. There was an old lounge downstairs that hardly anyone used because a newer lounge for chemistry students was upstairs that had vending machines and a small internet cafe. The old one just housed a couch, table and chairs, a coffeemaker,  a tiny bathroom, and no wifi. John preferred the old lounge because it was abandoned, and he and Sherlock often sat there to talk and unwind after stressful days when college life got to be too much.

Sherlock rushed out of the lab and headed towards the stairwell. He practically ran down the two flights of steps and jogged down the hall, stopping in front of the door. He was about to push it open when he heard moaning.

Two voices, a male and female. Obviously engaged in sexual intercourse. Sherlock's face fell. John had found yet another boring girl to have sex with, and it was all his fault. If only he'd kept his mouth shut and let John help him with his assignment. Sherlock hated history, having deleted most of it because it was in the past and not relevant. 

He was an idiot, and now he'd never get to be with John.

He turned and started to leave, but then he heard a familiar voice cry out.

"Oh God John, harder!"

Sherlock couldn't believe his ears. It was Molly's voice. His two best friends were sleeping together! Then Sherlock realized what happened. The two of them were consoling each other because he'd lashed out at them both today. It was comfort sex. 

He suddenly developed an irrational need to see them having sex. He slowly and quietly opened the door, making sure they wouldn't hear it shut. He ducked into the small bathroom that gave him a view of the couch where John and Molly were indulging their desire.

He opened the door to just a sliver, his gray-blue eyes widening at the erotic scene before him.

Molly was sitting on the couch, her slender legs spread wide, her eyes shut tight and mouth open, small moans and grunts escaping from her lips. John was kneeling between her thighs, and Sherlock watched as his tanned, perfect body jerked and bucked as he furiously thrust in and out of Molly, who wrapped her legs around John's waist, and her fingernails dug into the middle of his back. She was writhing in rhythm with John, who let out a loud, drawn-out groan.

"You feel so good Molly, so tight..."

As Sherlock watched the two of them, he imagined himself in Molly's place being fucked so enthusiastically by John. He slipped his hand inside his jeans, down into his underwear, and began to stroke his increasingly hard cock. "John," he whispered heatedly.

Sherlock let the bathroom door shut as he focused on pumping himself, not seeing John and Molly but hearing their moans and the sound of naked flesh slapping against each other.

*****

John was now sitting on the couch, grunting in pleasure as Molly sat in his lap, her back to him, rapidly rocking herself back and forth on his cock. He pressed kisses to her spine as his hands held her hips firmly in place, growing harder and harder at listening to her whimper and moan. It wouldn't be long before he would reach orgasm, but he wanted to wait until Molly came first.

Molly was bouncing up and down wildly, the palms of her hands on her thighs as she steadied herself while riding John's cock. John reached around and cupped her breasts. "God, you feel so good in me. I'm going to come soon," she moaned, the slippery feel of him sliding in and out of her beginning to escalate in a hot frenzy.

"Do it Molly," John rasped. "I want to feel you."

She came seconds later with a strangling cry, shouting out John's name. 

"Yes!" John yelled, groaning as his release spurted out into the tip of his condom, his nails digging into the flesh on Molly's tiny hips.

They rode out their spasms, and once their bodies finally settled, releasing big breaths of satisfaction.

Molly barely eased herself off John's cock when they heard another shout, coming from the bathroom. The two of them stilled with fear. 

"Oh shit, someone's in there. They heard everything!" John hissed.

The two scrambled to put their clothes on and they bolted for the door, escaping into the hallway.

*****

_Two days later_

Sherlock sat in his favorite chair inside the library, deep into his biology textbook, when he heard someone approaching him. He looked up and saw John. He struggled to maintain his composure, not just because he spied on his former friends shagging like rabbits, but because John looked so delicious. It had been raining, and his black jacket was slick with wet drops, and his light blond hair was dark from the heavens pouring down on his head. 

"Hello," Sherlock greeted him coolly.

"Sherlock," John said softly. "I came to apologize."

Sherlock's brows furrowed. "Apologize, for what? I was the one that was horrid to you. I was the one that ruined our friendship. I'm surprised you're even here."

"I shouldn't have called you a freak. I'm sorry." John looked away in shame.

"No John, you're right. I am a freak. Why you even wanted to be with me and be my friend is a wonderment."

"I wanted to be your friend because you're interesting and brilliant. You're not like anyone else on campus, that's why. And I want us to be together again." John turned to stare at him with pleading eyes.

Sherlock was stunned. "You---you do?"

John nodded. "I missed you."

Sherlock couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you sure John? I mean, it was only two days ago that you and Molly..." He gasped and covered his hand with his mouth realizing what he said.

Now it was John's turned to be stunned. "How did you know Molly and I slept together? We told no one." Then it dawned on him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widened in horror. "Oh my God. It was you in the lounge bathroom!"

Sherlock said nothing. He stood up and hurriedly tried to gather up his things. He didn't want to fight with John again. Then John reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm. "Sherlock, it's okay. I'm not mad."

"How can you not be? I followed you, no I stalked you, and I watched and listened to you have sex with Molly. What I did was reprehensible. You have every right to be angry with me, and I've proven that I am the freak everyone says I am."

John shook his head. "No you're not Sherlock. You're not a freak. You're a wonderful and unique person." He moved in closer. "Look, about Molly and me---"

"You two make a great couple. I wish you all the happiness in the world," Sherlock cut in, trying to sound sincere, but in his heart he was devastated.

"We're not a couple Sherlock. What happened between Molly and I was a one-time thing. Just two friends comforting each other when we needed something more than a hug." John bore his eyes into Sherlock's.

"But the way the two of you were going at it---"

John chuckled. "Yeah, we got caught up in the moment and it was amazing. But we're moving on. We're not sexually attracted to each other. Molly got asked out by Greg Lestrade and she's going on a date with him tomorrow night."

Sherlock tried to stay nonchalant. "Oh. Well, I know you won't have a lack of a date. Nearly everyone on campus wants you."

John chuckled again. "You know, for being such a genius you sure can be supremely thick."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "What?" he huffed sharply.

"You observe, but you don't see. Apart from Molly, has there been anyone else I've been with in the six months we've been friends?" John raised an eyebrow at him.

Sherlock actually had a puzzled look on his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why would I notice anything like that?"

John grinned. "You're too busy trying to figure out everyone's secrets by observing ink stains on their fingers and what's sewn onto their clothes, but you don't see when someone likes you. And I mean really likes you."

Sherlock gazed intently at John. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't.

"John? You mean you want..."

"Yes, you genius git, I want to date you. After Molly and I got together, we went back to the chemistry lab and had a good long talk. She made me realize that deep down I was attracted to you, but I couldn't get my feelings out because I was afraid you'd laugh at me. And when we had that fight, what I'd been afraid of came true, so I did the only thing I could at the time, was to lash out at you and end our friendship."

"John, all I've ever wanted for the last six months was to be your boyfriend. And I was afraid you'd reject me, so I kept you at bay with my insults and deductions. It was the only way I'm able to protect myself."

John caressed one of Sherlock's cheekbones with his index finger. "We've both been utter fools. Let's start over again, what do you say? How about going to get a coffee with me?"

Sherlock nodded, leaned down, and pressed his forehead to John's. "I'd love that."

John slipped his hand inside Sherlock's. "And when we do get together, physically, when you're ready, let's not do it in the old lounge. Anyone could sneak in and get an eyeful." He winked at his new boyfriend.

"Why not John? If someone did happen to spot us, they'd know we're together. I kind of find that very exciting." He winked back.

"Sherlock Holmes, I don't believe it! I know you're adventurous when it comes to lots of things, but sex?" John was dumbstruck.

"What can I say John? You inspired me."

John responded with a kiss. "Well then, I'm your muse."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to have a happy ending for the boys. And I think it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to have John and Molly hook up over being both hurt by Sherlock, but remaining friends after it.


	27. Dress You Up in My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a most unusual gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I can play catch-up thanks to the long Memorial Day weekend!

Day Twenty-Seven - Lingerie/Dress/Heels

Rosie entered the boutique, her blue eyes glancing around in wonder and awe at all the pretty dresses on display. She immediately ran to a rack of brightly colored gowns, decked out with sequins and ruffles.

"No Rosie, those dresses are way too garish. How about something a little more...tasteful?" Sherlock's baritone spoke out as he turned up his nose at seeing the frocks in shades of hot pink, bright aqua, and yellow.

"I want to try on everything Papa. It's not everyday I get to go to an actual ball, and I hardly wear dresses. I want to look fancy and grown-up."

Behind Sherlock, a sweet laugh rang out. "I know where you're coming from sweetheart. Try on all you want. But I agree with your papa, it should be somewhat conservative. If it wasn't your grandparents' putting this shindig on, I'd say go for the sequins and ruffles and feathers," John told her daughter.

Rosie thought about what her father said. "Yes Da, you're right. I still want sequins though."

John shot his husband a knowing look. "If the lady wants sequins, then she gets sequins."

The two men smiled as they watched Rosie go from rack to rack gushing and fawning over gowns and holding some up for her fathers to give their opinions on. It was hard to believe she was now fourteen, with her own growing set of ideas, values, and tastes. Having two men as parents, she wasn't the typical "girly-girl." She preferred jeans and pants to skirts and dresses, kept her blond hair in a short bob (John was so reminded of Mary with that), and loved playing sports and helping Sherlock with experiments. She was a total tomboy and John wouldn't have it any other way.

But he wanted her to look like a lady for her grandparents' big formal gala so that meant a fancy new dress, a sophisticated hairdo, makeup, and shoes that weren't trainers or flip-flops. It was easy as a man. Just find a snazzy suit and go. But ladies had a much more difficult time. Sometimes he wished Mary were here, at least for guidance on these types of moments. But there was Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, and Sarah. The latter two had little girls of their own, and they were a great help to John.

"Da, Papa, how about this one?" Rosie held up a striking purple cap sleeve ankle length number. The shoulders and neck were made out of lavender netting which led into a slightly darker purple bodice covered in sequins and pearls, but just enough to keep it from looking tacky. The bottom flared out into feminine ruffles.

John nodded his approval. "It's lovely Ro." He turned to Sherlock. "What do you think?"

"I like the color," was all he said.

"I'm going to try it on." Rosie headed for the fitting room where a sales clerk appeared to let her in.

While John stayed with his daughter, Sherlock wandered to the other side of the store where the lingerie was. His eyes took in the variety of bras, panties, garter belts, and stockings, some lacy, some silk, some fishnets. The well-oiled gears in his brilliant mind started to conjure up images that almost made him hard. A devious grin appeared on his lips.

Another sales clerk came up to him. "Good afternoon sir. Anything I can help you with? We are having a sale on our sets. Do you have a special lady in your life? Of course you do, gorgeous bloke like yourself can't be single."

Sherlock continued to grin. "I have a very special someone." He held up his left hand, showing off the shiny titanium band nestled proudly on his ring finger. "And I'm thinking of something in red. Favorite color."

"Oh, that's an excellent choice sir. Red is the color of passion. What's her size?"

Sherlock had to think for a moment. "Large."

The clerk motioned him to follow her, and he was soon perusing bras and panty sets. His eyes darted to one hanging on the wall. "That one," he suddenly said, pointing.

"Oooh, you're a naughty one," the clerk purred. "This is one of our most popular ones. Would you like it gift wrapped?"

"Yes, thank you." Sherlock smiled and hummed to himself. 

*****

Sherlock put the gift-wrapped lingerie on the bed. He'd told John he'd bought a hairpiece and clutch for Rosie so his husband wouldn't suspect anything. 

He'd been waiting for the two to be alone so he could present it to John, and his chance came the next day when Rosie went to spend the night with a friend. Sherlock had ordered takeway from Angelo's and as far as John knew, it was going to be a quiet night at home with dinner and crap telly.

The two had dressed up before while working on cases. Once they had to disguise themselves as women to catch a serial killer who targeted women in clubs. John thought he looked ridiculous as female because he didn't have the right shape, and couldn't pull off being feminine like Sherlock, who was much taller and thinner. But when Sherlock saw John in his padded bra and panties (he'd insisted on crotchless so his cock could breathe), he thought he was beautiful, seeing his tanned skin against the black lace.

This was before they had gotten together, and by this point Sherlock was hopelessly in love with John, but he was still on his kick about dating only women. Luckily for Sherlock he stopped that line of thinking and confessed his long-repressed feelings for him.

He heard the door shut and then "Sherlock, I'm home love!" He smiled and patted the box. 

*****

John awoke to Sherlock's lips on his cheek which moved to his ear. "Come into the bedroom John, I have a surprise for you."

His husband's baritone never failed to turn him on and he scrambled to get up. "Okay."

Sherlock took his hand and led him down the hall and into their room. John saw the package on the bed, and he grinned. "You git. This isn't for Rosie."

"Nope." Sherlock popped the P, as he usually did when he was in a teasing mood. "Go ahead and open it."

John grinned and dove for the package, unwrapping it. When he opened the black box and saw the red lace bra and matching panties his eyes widened in shock. "You can't be serious. You got me lingerie?"

"Yes John. I loved you when you wore it for the serial killer case. I wanted to tell you how gorgeous you looked, but you were still telling anyone that listened you weren't gay, so I kept quiet. Now that things have changed, I'd hoped you'd wear it for me again, just one more time."

John looked at Sherlock's face, so full of love, then back at his gift. The panties were crotchless and also open in the back, and had a little black satin bow that sat the top of the waistband in the back. "Oh Sherlock, I'm sorry. These are beautiful. I'll put them on right now."

John stood up and kissed his husband. "You do have good taste in lingerie. I remember when you took us shopping the first time. I picked out a pair of white cotton granny panties and a sports bra. I was so embarrassed and I wanted to be as comfortable as possible. I didn't think the killer would even go after me."

Sherlock relaxed and grinned. "You underestimate yourself. You have no idea how beautiful you really are."

John began to unbutton his shirt. Sherlock moved to work on his belt and trousers, planting soft kisses on the side of his neck. John shivered and pushed him away just slightly. "If you don't stop, I'll never get these on for you."

Sherlock sat on the bed and watched with hungry eyes as John removed his clothes and stepped into the panties. Sherlock's cock stirred and twitched when he saw John's poking through the front of the red bottoms. "They feel real good," John mused. "Very comfortable. I like that they're boy shorts."

John did a little bump and grind and Sherlock's cock stirred again. Before John could slip on the bra, Sherlock jumped up and grabbed John. "Leave the bra off. We can save that for another time. I need you now." He began to strip.

John giggled and kissed his husband. "Anything you want, you mad gorgeous genius."

And when Sherlock finally was in him fully, he closed his eyes, realizing how amazing it felt feeling the soft lace against his skin as their bodies moved together. He'd never doubt Sherlock again. He also decided he'd make a trip back to the boutique to buy Sherlock his own set of lingerie so they could wear them together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it's a bit icky having a teenager try on clothes in the same store where they sell crotchless underwear, but it was convenient to the story.


	28. Under the Lights and Into My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a porn star getting ready to shoot a sex scene with a new partner, a popular young ex-soldier named John Watson. While he waits, he thinks about the best and worst co-stars he's ever slept with on camera. John of course, turns out to be the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a porn challenge without writing your characters as actual porn stars?  
> Sherlock and John are in their twenties for this this story.

Day Twenty-Eight - Best/Worst

"We'll be ready for you in ten minutes Mr. Holmes," Molly's voice calls out professionally from the doorway of the dressing room.

"Okay Molly," Sherlock replies, lost in thought.

Sherlock still thinks about how he went from a promising chemistry major at Oxford to one of the world's most popular porn stars. His parents and older brother weren't thrilled with his sudden turn into having sex on camera for money, but he was making a lot of it and that meant an early retirement for his parents, and his brother didn't have to worry about him turning to drugs and unsafe couplings with shady men in alleys to get a high. Being a porn actor was his high.

Today he would be shooting a steamy shower scene with a man he'd never worked with before, but he was very familiar with his work and his entry into the porn industry. John Watson was a former soldier, having joined the Army at age eighteen and just two short years later, was invalidated due to a bullet in the left shoulder. According to a very interesting and lengthy interview with _Adult Video News_ , his porn career began when he did a photo shoot wearing his Army fatigues for his sister-in-law who was a photographer. She submitted the pictures to a military kink magazine, who saw something in the the handsome and muscular blond. The owner of the magazine, a former Army colonel named Sebastian Moran, felt John would be very popular on screen as well as in pictures, and after a few internet videos that took the online porn community by storm, he'd signed a contract with Black Lotus Video.

This would be his first big scene with Sherlock, their main star. Sherlock was looking very forward to performing with John. He'd developed an instant attraction to him as soon as he saw his videos, and it was his clout that got John to be his partner for the shower scene. Otherwise, John was just going to have a five minute handjob and blowjob with Mike Stamford, one of the lesser actors, and he felt John was much too good---and too gorgeous---to be relegated to a quickie no one would remember.

Sherlock thought about all the others he'd worked with. He was just twenty-five, young for the porno world, but he'd been performing for seven years and he'd racked up quite an impressive resume and had shot scenes with legends and popular up-and-comers.

His very first job was with bondage queen Irene Adler. She was thirty at the time, and known professionally as "The Woman." Irene was heavily into BDSM, and while she mostly did pink movies (girl-on-girl), she was eager to break in the six-foot tall ethereal looking eighteen year-old with pale skin and mood ring eyes. Their scene was so hot it led to a brief off-screen fling. But Sherlock's heart lie not with a woman, and Irene's not with a man so they amicably ended things after just five weeks. Irene eventually stopped doing porn and became a dominatrix catering to the wealthy and had married a girl named Kate, one of her co-stars. Sherlock rated Irene as definitely one of the best, and they were still friends today.

Sherlock was next paired with a young blond stud named Victor Trevor. The two developed a fast friendship and enjoyed working with each other. Victor was known for being rough and fast on camera, and their first big scene together two four takes because it was supposed to last fifteen minutes and Victor couldn't last that long. He kept blaming it on being too turned on by Sherlock. But eventually, the scenes got easier and their films made a lot of money. Victor was a good guy and a pretty good on-screen lover.

Then there was tough-as-nails Sally Donovan, who called herself Ebony. Sally was pushing forty and at first balked about doing a scene with a much younger white man, and she hurled insults at him every chance she got. Sherlock was no pushover, and when he outed her affair with cameraman Anderson during a particularly intense sex scene, she was so shocked she ran off the set and begged for the higher-ups to never let her work with Sherlock again. He was thrilled, he had a hard time getting it up for her and she wasn't as good as she bragged.

Another of the worst was Jim Moriarty, a.k.a. "Irish Boy." Jim was a short, dark-haired weirdo who had a tendency to giggle during his sex scenes. Sherlock got bad vibes from him and refused to work with him after one scene where Jim shoved an apple in his mouth as he shagged him, yelling how he was "his pig." It turned out Jim had binged on cocaine before filming, and he was dumped from Black Lotus pictures. The last that was heard of him, he'd shacked up with Sebastian Moran and quit doing films to be his kept pet.

Finally, there were the two um, "mature" legends that were Martha Hudson and Trudy Turner. The two forty-somethings always starred together but never performed on each other. They regaled Sherlock with stories of their twenty plus years in the industry. They were like second mothers to Sherlock, except these two gave him head occasionally. Their latest DVD, "Milf Money", was a certified hit with the upscale suburban footballers' wives. Sherlock enjoyed performing with them because they were funny and laid back, and made tense shootings more relaxed. They also had very talented tongues.

"Sherlock, we're ready for you on set." Sherlock shook himself out of his reverie to see stage manager Molly Hooper smiling at him. "Sure Molly." He got out of his chair and followed her out of his dressing room.

Sherlock saw John sitting in a corner talking to a pretty brunette named Anthea, a new girl to the world of porn. His heart fluttered at the sight of the blond and he vowed he was going to make their time together amazing so John would want to continue working with him, and maybe even pursue a relationship outside of their job.

John looked up, saw Sherlock, and grinned at him. Sherlock thought he'd come right there at the sight of his beautiful mouth and teeth. A mouth that would soon be on his. Sherlock couldn't wait to touch and taste him.

*****

Sherlock and John were talking with Greg Lestrade, the director of the movie, "A Study in Sexual Obsession". It was a darker feature about a young, intelligent, rich trust fund man who becomes infatuated with a teenager who's been hired to do odd jobs around the house by the former man's mother. 

"We're going to be doing the main scene, where you Sherlock, as Ben, finds Tim in the shower, and has his way with him. There's no script, so both of you improv your lines and what you feel works sexually. Obviously this is dub-con, but remember, Tim hasn't really made an attempt to fend off Ben's advances because he needs the job due to money troubles and doesn't want to be fired. So Tim at first is hesitant, but as Ben continues his seduction, Tim gets into and responds, leading to a very steamy time."

Greg looked at his two stars. "I know you can pull this off, the chemistry between you two is electric just during talking scenes. Are you ready?"

"Yes," John replied. Sherlock nodded. "Absolutely."

Greg grinned and gave them a thumbs up. "Okay, let's roll then!"

Everyone took their places. Molly counted down from five to one and yelled "Action!"

*****

John was naked and singing to himself in the shower, oblivious to his surroundings. Suddenly the frosted glass door opened and Sherlock appeared, also naked, sporting an impressive erection and a lustful gaze on his face. "Jesus Ben!" John cried. "What in the hell are you doing in here? Get out!"

Sherlock smirked. "My house, my shower...my Tim." He moved closer to the shorter man, a predator stalking his prey.

Greg was nodding in approval and Molly was staring at the two men with her hands folded tightly under her chin. They both knew this scene could make or break the entire movie.

"I'm not yours Ben. So please leave me to my privacy." John was now backed up against the tiled wall, trying to shield his wet naked body from Sherlock's stare of want.

"No Tim. I've wanted you from the first time I saw you on the porch, blue eyes so eager and hopeful. For the last three weeks you've been driving me wild. I've tried to be good and keep my hands to myself but no more. You're mine, and I'm going to take what's mine." Sherlock leaned down and whispered into John's ear. "Mother doesn't care. It's not the first time I've fucked the help. But they were nothing. You're different."

John shuddered violently. Greg was grinning madly. This was going better than expected. They were really getting into their roles.

Sherlock moved in to kiss John, and John remembered Greg's words to try to resist him. He found more difficult than he expected. Sherlock was gorgeous, and his voice alone could cause an orgasm. But John told himself this was just acting. He pushed Sherlock away, hard. "I said stay away from me." His voice though, quivered.

"I know you want this Tim. You haven't pushed me away before. There's nothing wrong with two people acting on their obvious attraction for each other." Sherlock captured John's lips again, and this time, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock.

"No..." he croaked.

Sherlock smiled wolfishly. "Well then, let's act."

What followed was perhaps the sexiest and most erotic scene that Greg ever directed in his twelve years on the job. With most actors, the sex was just that, acting, but it was like Sherlock and John weren't pretending, but actually acting on a long-buried attraction. He knew Sherlock desired John and because of him, John had this part instead of Victor Trevor. And John had been thrilled to work with Sherlock, the hottest male porn star around, literally and figuratively.

Sherlock was licking and sucking John's nipples, the shorter man moaning loudly. Greg was sure John wasn't faking it. He'd come to know when his actors were just going through the motions because that's what the viewers wanted to hear.

Sherlock was now on his knees, those perfect lips wrapped around John's cock, licking and sucking John's cock like it was a popsicle. John was moaning "Ben" over and over again and had his hands buried in Sherlock's dark locks. The only sounds on the set were John's moans and groans and the wet slurps of Sherlock's tongue on John's flesh.

Sherlock slid off John, stood up, grabbed John and spun him around so John was facing the wall, Sherlock's exquisite behind facing the cameras. Sherlock pressed kisses to John's neck and back while murmuring "mine" and "I love you" between kisses. He slid down, mouth now pressed to John's behind, and he spread open his cheeks and began to work his way inside with his tongue. John cried out and struggled to stay standing, hands pushing into the wall as hard as he could to steady himself. 

Greg was ecstatic and Molly kept her hands folded together, smiling wide. They definitely had another hit on their hands, once the fans saw this scene. And it was far from over.

Sherlock reveled in feeling John become loose and wet as his tongue continued to probe deeper and deeper. It wouldn't be long before Sherlock could do what he'd been wanting to since the first time he saw the beautiful blond in his Army uniform stripping and stroking himself online. 

"Please," John choked out. "I want you inside me."

That's all Sherlock needed to hear. He grabbed a bottle of shower gel, coated his cock, and with his two hands on John's hips, eased himself inside the blond and began thrusting. "Tim," he moaned. "This is all I've ever wanted from the first time I saw you. You're so beautiful."

Everyone watched, rapt as Sherlock moved in and out of John, who was wailing so loud and hard Greg thought the camera lens would shatter. The cameraman caught Sherlock reaching around to grab John's cock, pumping him.

It wasn't long before the money shot Greg was anticipated happened. John screamed and came hard in Sherlock's hand, and Sherlock came, pulling out of John and coating his wet, slick golden back with semen. The two slumped to the floor, Sherlock wrapped around John like a vine, peppering him with kisses. "Promise me this isn't a one time thing," Sherlock murmured as Ben.

"I promise, I promise," John as Tim replied softly, now facing Sherlock and wrapping his legs around his slender pale waist.

*****

"Holy shit is all I can say," Greg said to Sherlock and John, now wrapped in soft white bathrobes, sitting in Sherlock's dressing room. "I think that was the hottest, most exciting scene I've ever filmed. And we did it in just one take. You two are terrific. After "A Study in Sexual Obsession" is released, the porn lovers are going to be clamoring for more films with you two."

There was a knock at the door. "Can I come in?" rang Molly's voice.

"We're decent!" Sherlock replied, and John laughed.

Molly entered. "Greg, they're ready in editing, although I don't think they're going to be doing anything to the shower scene." She beamed at the two stars. "That was something."

"It certainly was." Greg got up and smiled at Sherlock and John. You two definitely need a break. I'm calling it a wrap for the day. Get some rest, so you two will be refreshed and ready to shoot the pool scene."

He left the two men alone. There was a tense silence in the air before John's chuckle sliced it.

"It was something wasn't it?"

Sherlock's eyes sparkled as he looked at John. "It was the best sex I've ever had on camera. Maybe ever."

"You serious?" 

Sherlock moved closer to John so their thighs were touching. "I'm deadly serious. I've fucked a lot of people both on camera and quite a few off, and trust me when I say being with you was the best."

He stared at John intensely. "I wasn't acting. I'm very attracted to you John. I have been the first time I saw you online."

"Really? Wow." John leaned back. "That's high praise coming from you. I'm attracted to you too."

Sherlock gently placed a hand on John's knee. He leaned over and kissed John softly on the lips. "Thank you," he said when he broke away.

"So, we've got the rest of the day off, what should we do?" John asked, a coy smile playing on his lips.

Sherlock replied with a coy smile of his own. "I think we should practice our next scene. I have a membership to my brother's club and there's an indoor pool. It's closed today but I can get in whenever I want. What do you say?" He winked at John.

"I say, I think it's time for us to get wet again," John answered, moving in to give Sherlock a kiss of his own.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult Video News is a real website and they used to publish a magazine. I used to work at a video store and we'd get the magazine. I read it during downtime. Very interesting.
> 
> Milf Money is a song by Fergie and it's one of the most awful things I've ever heard. I don't even think I can call it music. The video looks like a porno without the sex so I thought it would be good title for an X-rated movie. You Tube it if you dare!!!


	29. The Prom Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mummy Holmes is determined to find Sherlock a prom date even if she has to beg and bribe. Turns out her actions weren't needed. No smut in this one, I need a break from that last chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think British schools have proms but just go with it.

Day Twenty-Nine - Begging

 

"Hello Justine dear. This is Violet. How are you?" Oh, splendid! Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. No, I'm not looking for any donations, but thank you for offering. It's about Sherlock. What do you mean he needs all the favors he can get? That's very rude of you to say! Well, it looks like you won't be doing the honor of being his date for prom!"

Violet Holmes slammed down the phone and huffed in frustration. The Baker Academy was holding its senior prom this Saturday night at The Belgrave Hotel, and she was trying to find a date for Sherlock. 

Correction---she was begging any available, unattached boy or girl, to be Sherlock's date. 

It was his fault anyway no one wanted to go with him. He did have a tendency to be short and cruel, reducing his classmates to tears or bouts of fury with his deductions. Violet had pleaded with her son to go easy on his brusque observations, but he refused. So as punishment, she was making him go to the prom because he had loudly stated he was not going. He already had plans to stay in his room and conduct experiments on ear wax. 

Sherlock of course had responded to her punishment with the biggest sulk ever to date in the history of Sherlock sulks. Violet didn't care. She had also told her son if he made any attempt to get out of going to prom, she would force him to accompany the family to France this summer to see his grandparents, which for him was like having a leg chopped off.

Violet had already phoned six of Sherlock's classmates and five refused to go with Sherlock to the prom. And she hung up on Justine, the sixth.

She thought about calling Irene Adler, as she and Sherlock were friends. Despite Irene being an out and proud lesbian, she could be persuaded to be Sherlock's date for a few hours. And she knew Irene, being a social butterfly, could get Sherlock out of his shell.

She picked up the phone once again and dialed the Adler's. Irene's mother came on the phone and when Violet told her of her predicament, Mrs. Adler said that Irene would have gladly gone with Sherlock, but she was blowing off her own prom to attend Appledore Prep's prom being held the same night, which was taking place on a party boat that would cruise the Thames. Violet couldn't fault Irene, she'd do the same thing.

Violet hung up the phone again and sighed. She wanted to experience showing off at least one of her children on prom night, posting pictures to Facebook and bragging about how handsome they looked. Mycroft couldn't go to his, having come down with a terrible case of strep throat four days before the event.

She was determined to find Sherlock a date, even if she had to get Mrs. Hudson to go with him. That woman lived for parties, and if it was in a room full of teenagers, she didn't mind. She'd probably out dance them.

*****

"Sherlock, you've been in a mood all day. Well, you're always in a mood, but this one is even worse. What's going on with you?" Molly Hooper asked as the two sat down to lunch in the school cafeteria.

"Mummy is making me to go to prom. And if I don't, she's forcing me to go to France this summer to see my grandparents."

"You can't miss your prom Sherlock! It's the most magical night of our last year! Well, besides graduation."

Sherlock harrumphed. "Prom is for idiots and overrated."

"Gee, thanks a lot Sherlock. I'm going, and I'm not an idiot," Molly retorted. "You're the idiot for being anti-social and moody."

"Why would I want to go Molly? I don't want to dance, the music that will be played is atrocious. Nobody's going to stay the entire time, they'll be sneaking off to get drunk and have sex."

Molly snorted. "That shows you how much you really know. The bowling alley is sponsoring a booze-free after prom party. Greg and I are going, and so are Mike and Sarah. We all made a pledge not to drink. You can go with Sarah's cousin Janine. She likes you a lot. She'd agree to be your date in a heartbeat."

Before Sherlock could reply, the sounds of male laughter rang out through the cafeteria. He and Molly looked up to see some of the rugby team enter the room. Sherlock's chest grew tight and his heart fluttered at the sight of rugby captain and all-around sex god John Watson. John was short, muscular, tanned, and absolutely the most gorgeous boy Sherlock ever laid eyes on. He was blond, blue-eyed and had the sweetest smile.

If John was Sherlock's date for prom, he'd be the happiest boy on earth. But there was no way John would go with Sherlock. John barely talked to him outside of asking him what time it was one day. And John liked girls. In the last three months, he dated three girls ---Mary Morstan, Jeanette Poole, and Sally Donovan. Sherlock kept track. So he was sure John's date would be a girl, A popular, good-looking girl. Not the freak of the senior class.

"You sure have it bad for John. Why don't you ask him to prom?" Molly spoke.

Sherlock sent her a look that could have made Charles Manson shiver. "You did not just say that."

"John doesn't have a date yet. Greg told me."

"Well he will. Practically everyone in this school will ask him."

Molly shook her head. "You know Sherlock, it's amazing that you can walk up to someone and tell them their life history and all their secrets by observing how they wear their hair with no hesitation, but you can't ask someone to go to a dance." 

"That's different. I don't look foolish making my deductions because I'm always right. But asking someone on a date, there is a 100 percent chance I will be humiliated. Why go against the odds?"

Molly chuckled deviously. "Well Sherlock, all I can say is, enjoy France."

*****

 John was getting dressed in the locker room after rugby practice and thinking about the prom. He didn't have a date yet, and there was one person he wanted to ask, but he was intimidated. 

"John," Greg's voice called out cheerfully to him. "Me and Mike are heading over to Angelo's for pizza. Wanna come?"

"Sorry mate, but I'd promise Mom I'd help her with dinner. Dad bought a new barbecue and we're cooking chicken. Maybe some other time."

John licked his lips and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hey Greg, you're friends with Sherlock, right?"

Greg nodded. "I don't know why though. He keeps calling me the wrong name and says I'm an idiot. But he's interesting. Why do you ask?"

"I want to ask him to prom."

Greg's brown eyes widened in disbelief. "You're interested in Sherlock? Oh wow, wait until I tell him. He's been lusting after you for months!"

Now it was John's turn to be taken aback. "Sherlock's got the hots for me? Little old me? He's gorgeous and so out of my league."

"He feels the same way about you. But he's afraid to approach you, he thinks you'll laugh at him or punch him in the face."

"I'd never do that. I barely talk to him because I know I'll end up sounding like a bloody fool. He's so articulate."

"Well, now that you know you're both in the same boat, it's time for the ship to sail. Ask him to the prom. He may tell you your life history first though."

Greg looked at his watch. "Man, I better get going. Good luck John!" And with that he was off, leaving John to figure out how to ask Sherlock to the prom without acting like a total idiot.

*****

After dinner, John decided the best way to ask Sherlock was to ask him directly. So he got directions to his house from Greg and made the drive to see him.

Sherlock lived in a very elegant three story penthouse not too far from Baker Academy. It made his modest two story duplex look like the dump on the outskirts of town.

He clenched his fists, mentally composing himself on how to ask Sherlock as he made his way to the front door. He rang the doorbell and waited.

An older woman with grayish-blonde hair and glasses opened the door with a smile. "Hello. How can I help you?"

"Is Sherlock home? My name is John Watson and I'm a classmate of his."

The woman beamed at him and clapped her hands. "Oh how lovely, a new friend! I'm Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper. Do come in."

"Thank you." John followed her inside to a small foyer and into a spacious, tastefully decorated living room. "You wait here John. I'll let Sherlock know you're here." He watched her head for the winding staircase at the back of the room.

John stood by himself, a bundle of nerves. What if Sherlock refused to see him? Or what if he did come down, and didn't agree to go to prom? It wouldn't be the worst thing, John could find someone else to go with at school, or take his sister Harry. But he wanted it to be Sherlock.

It seemed like hours, but then he saw Mrs. Hudson descend the stairs, followed by Sherlock's lean, elegant frame. John grew tingly at the sight of the handsome young man with his dark curly locks and other-worldly eyes that seemed to change color at the drop of a hat.

Sherlock was wearing gray sweatpants and a dark purple T-shirt, and John thought even in casual clothes he looked handsome and posh. He also saw the apprehensive look in his eyes, and he felt a little nervous. He wanted his prom proposal to sound perfect.

"Hi Sherlock," John said quietly. 

"Mrs. Hudson said you wanted to see me."

John gulped and nodded. "I did."

"I'll leave you two alone," Mrs. Hudson said, retiring to her room that was on the first floor by the kitchen.

"You have a nice house," John said, trying to make small talk.

"It's sufficient."

John frowned and looked at the floor. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. He'd better get right to the point. "I came here to ask you if---"

"John Hamish Watson. Captain of the rugby team. A generally good student, proficient in maths, biology, history, but could do a little better in chemistry and English lit. You suffered an mild injury to your right leg during a  match. Sometimes you walk with a limp and sometimes you don't, so psychosomatic. You're very popular at school, but you have trust issues since you only associate yourself at school with your rugby teammates and a few close friends outside the team, you know you can count on them. You have one sibling, a sister, judging by the smartphone with the pink case she gave you."

Sherlock's words came out like he was reciting multiplication tables, and John was gobsmacked, standing there speechless. 

Sherlock wanted to run out of the room. He'd done it again, and to John Watson of all people. Now John would get angry and either run away from him, or call him a freak and hit him. He couldn't alienate John, he'd been wanting to be alone with him for the longest time. He shut his eyes and braced himself for a violent reaction.

"Damn, that's bloody amazing!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock snapped his eyes open. "What?"

"I said, that's bloody amazing! How did you know all of that?"

Sherlock internally breathed a sigh of relief and he allowed a smile. "By observing you around school."

"You're brilliant!" John praised him.

Sherlock was so not expecting that. He saw John's beautiful, bright smile and it reminded him of pure sunshine. "You really think so? That's not what people usually say."

"Yeah? What do they say?"

"Piss off."

The two broke out into laughter. "Well, then those people are morons," John said.

"Most people generally are."

John grinned at him. "So Sherlock, can you figure out why I'm really here?" 

Sherlock studied John for a few seconds. Nothing came to him. And then he remembered Molly's words. 

_John doesn't have a date yet._

Was John really going to ask him to prom? No, it couldn't be. Maybe John needed help with chemistry. Sherlock did tutoring sometimes. That was it. John would never want to be seen with a gangly geek like him who preferred examining body parts in his bedroom to doing normal teenage things like going to the movies and going to parties.

"Uh, you need help with chemistry?" he finally asked.

"Well, yeah, but that's not it. I was hoping you'd be my date to the prom on Saturday."

Sherlock's mouth dropped open in complete and total surprise. "You...you want to take me to prom? For real?"

"Yes. So will you do me the honor? I know I'm way out of your league, but I think you're the most good-looking guy in school and I'd love to have you on my arm."

Sherlock couldn't believe it.

John thought he was handsome.

John thought it was an honor to take him to the prom.

John thought he was out of his league when it was really Sherlock that was out of John's league.

"But you only date girls!" Sherlock blurted out.

John laughed. "Well yeah, but I like guys too. I just haven't found the right one...until I saw you."

Sherlock broke out into a huge grin. "Yes."

"Does that mean you accept?" John's eyes were hopeful, pleading, begging.

"Yes, I accept. I will do you the honor of being your prom date."

Sherlock suddenly found himself holding five feet six inches of blond hair and muscles. "Thank you so much. I was so afraid you'd turn me down," John said, his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck.

"No John, I could never turn you down." Sherlock lightly pressed a kiss to his golden locks. 

John looked up, gazing into multicolored eyes, and brushed his lips to Sherlock's. "It's going to be a great night, just you wait.

*****

Violet was beaming so hard she could have burst into flames. She looked on proudly as Sherlock, looking dapper and handsome in a traditional black tuxedo with dark purple bow-tie and cummerbund, stood next to John, radiant in a similar black tux, but his tie and cummerbund were sapphire blue, matching his eyes. She was ecstatic Sherlock not only had a prom date, but a prom date that really wanted to be with him. 

She had make sure to take plenty of pictures. Her husband Siger was out of town at a conference and Mycroft was at uni taking his end of term exams, so they weren't available to see Sherlock in person. She would send them the photos.

And she wouldn't have to do anymore begging. Well, not until it was time to find Mycroft a spouse...

*****

All eyes were on Sherlock and John when they entered the main ballroom at the Belgrave. Most of course, were shocked that popular jock John Watson had the "freak" on his arm, but the look on John's face said it all. He was happy Sherlock was his date, and nobody was going to spoil his magical night with the boy he adored.

Sherlock was in his glory. He danced (only with John of course), entertained John at their table with his deductions, and when John was crowned prom king, Sherlock cheered the loudest. And there were more cheers, especially from Molly, Greg, Mike, and Sarah, when John placed the crown on Sherlock's head and kissed him right in front of everyone on the dance floor. Sherlock didn't think life could get any better.

But it did, when at their wedding reception eight years later, John gave Sherlock another crown, called him "the king of my heart," and kissed him in front of all the guests. 

 

 

 


	30. The Doctor Will Arouse You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock discovers the emergency room is a great place to get turned on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate first meeting with a little smut and lots of humor, set before A Study in Pink.

Day Thirty - Accidental Stimulation

 

It was a Sunday afternoon and the skies were spitting snow off and on all day. Greg had plans to hit the pub for a pint after his shift, but those plans were ruined thanks to a certain consulting detective.

He was sitting next to Sherlock Holmes in a small room inside the A&E of St. Bart's. It was Sherlock's fourth trip to the emergency this month. Today, the idiot decided to chase after a murder suspect, leaving Greg and his backup in the dust. Sherlock jumped the man and the two were wrestling on the ground when the other man managed to pull out a kitchen knife and slashed Sherlock's left hand and left cheek. The suspect was wrestled to the ground by coppers and taken into custody. Greg was stuck, as usual, getting Sherlock medical attention since no one else on the force wanted to be alone with him.

A nurse named Evie had been in earlier to wrap Sherlock's hand and clean up his cheek wound. She'd also asked for Greg's phone number, but before Greg could give it to her, Sherlock had put the kibbosh on any future dates by announcing that Evie was sleeping with one of the married doctors on shift and one of the registering clerks as well. The nurse had run out of the room red-faced and demanded someone else tend to Sherlock.

"Geoff, let's go. I'm tired of waiting and I'm bored," Sherlock whined.

"For the last time Sherlock, it's Greg. I've known you for five years and I can't believe you still can't get my name right. And it's your fault you're here, so you're going to sit on that bed and wait for the doctor to stitch up your hand like a good little boy," Greg chided.

Sherlock just huffed and sat back on the narrow, uncomfortable hospital bed, his large feet dangling off the front.

A few minutes later, the doctor walked in. "Hello, I'm Doctor Watson." He smiled at Greg and Sherlock. "So, I finally have the pleasure of treating the infamous Sherlock Holmes."

Greg chuckled. Sherlock however, was too busy gawking at the handsome doctor to say anything, his mind rapidly deducing what he could.

_Ex-soldier, Army, honorably discharged. Generally works night shift weekdays but is here today probably because he needed extra hours or is covering a co-worker's shift. Single but has enjoyed multiple sexual partners, bisexual. Generally affable with a good sense of humor but has a wicked temper that can flare up quickly. Likes dogs, has a sibling. And hot. Extremely hot..._

"Sherlock. Earth to Sherlock Holmes," Greg's voice called out. "Are you okay?"

Sherlock sharply turned his head towards his friend. "Huh? Oh yes Graham, fine, thank you." He shifted on the bed, trying to hide the erection that had suddenly formed during his observation of the doctor.

Doctor Watson moved in closer. "Let me take a look at that hand." He unwrapped the gauze from Sherlock's hand which was stained light red. "Hmm, very nasty cut. Looks like the skin was slashed with a blade." He frowned and peered at Sherlock suspiciously. "How did this happen?"

Sherlock snorted. "I was doing the police's job, as usual, when the murder suspect I was chasing decided to pull out a kitchen knife and cut my hand and my cheek." Greg just rolled his eyes, used to Sherlock's braggadocio and haughty attitude.

Doctor Watson just smiled. "You don't look like a copper." He turned to Greg. "I didn't know modeling agencies were sending out resumes to the police academy." He winked at Sherlock, whose eyes just blew wide open with surprise.

Doctor Watson was flirting with him. Sherlock's uninjured hand went to his lap, trying to hide his obvious hardening length. What was it about this short (but obviously muscular and fit man) that caused such a reaction in him? He'd never felt such sexual attraction before. It was something else that just slowed him down, like food. He'd never had a need to engage in frequent sexual activity. He'd had a couple of flings at uni, and a lengthy but unsatisfying makeout session with one of the pathologists at the lab who was covering for Molly two months ago, but that was only because he wanted a pair of lungs for an experiment, and the woman was desperate and needy after a breakup with her longtime boyfriend. 

But there was something about this little blond ex-Army doctor that sent tingles racing all through his body. Speaking of Army...

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he blurted out.

"What?" Doctor Watson asked, bewildered.

"Sherlock, not now---" Greg began.

"Afghanistan or Iraq Doctor Watson. What war did you serve in?" Sherlock continued, gazing intensely him.

"Afghanistan. But how did you know I used to be in the Army?" he asked in amazement.

"Your stance. It's definitely military, as is your haircut."

Doctor Watson grinned. "Wow, that's bloody brilliant! No wonder you're in the police force."

Both Sherlock and Greg were flabbergasted. No one responded to Sherlock's sudden deductions like that.

"What's the matter? Does no one else think so?" Doctor Watson inquired.

"No," Sherlock said flatly.

"What do people usually say?"

"Piss off."

John laughed, a hearty, good-natured laugh, and Sherlock could feel himself getting warm. He felt a sudden urge to wrap the doctor up in his arms and never let go.

Greg cracked a smile, and Sherlock finally did too.

"I'm not a policeman though. I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world. I invented the job," Sherlock announced proudly.

"I didn't think the police consulted anyone, apart from others in law enforcement and the occasional psychic. You must be psychic, the way you knew I was in the Army."

Sherlock shook his head. "Not a psychic Doctor. I simply observe."

"Well, your observation skills are extraordinary. Now, this hand needs stitches, so I'd better get prepared. Your cheek just has a superficial cut so it won't scar, which is wonderful. We can't have those gorgeous cheekbones of yours with any marks. Then I'll write you out a prescription for some pain killers, and I was also hoping you'd have dinner with me sometime."

Sherlock nearly fell off the bed at hearing Doctor Watson's last sentence. He was asking him on a date! While preparing to put stitches in his hand! Oh, how he was falling in love with this man.

"You want to go on a date with me?" he asked, a little sheepishly.

"Yes, of course. Unless you're already taken?"

"He's married to his work," Greg joked dryly.

"I can make an exception," Sherlock said, very seriously.

Doctor Watson laughed again. "I'm glad. I'll be right back, I need to get my 'stitch kit.' And, my first name is John. Thought you'd need to know that." He winked at Sherlock again and left the room.

When he was gone, Greg smirked at Sherlock. "Looks like you've got yourself a boyfriend there genius."

"Don't tease me George, or I will broadcast your little relationship with my fat git of a brother over the hospital PA system."

Greg rolled his eyes again. "It's not a secret Sherlock. Especially since Mycroft's got CCTV all over the city." He stood up and stretched. "I think I'm going to go to the cafeteria and see if they have any coffee. It'll give you some alone time with your Doctor Love." He chuckled and left the room, but not before Sherlock picked up a pillow that was on his bed and threw it at Greg with his good hand.

*****

A week later, Sherlock and John went on their date to Angelo's. Sherlock actually ate half his dinner and took a few bites of John's dessert. The two walked to John's tiny little flat a few blocks away, and Sherlock wrinkled his nose upon seeing it.

"I know it's not much, but it's affordable and close to St. Bart's," John said, feeling a little ashamed.

"Move in with me then. I have a two bedroom on Baker Street and my landlady cut me a very nice deal in exchange for helping her with a...marital issue."

John did a double take. "Are you serious? We've only known each other a week and you want me to move into your flat with you?"

Sherlock was unperturbed. "Why not? You'd have a lot more room at my place, and you'd be paying less rent. And if things go as well as they did tonight, you won't be needing the second bedroom that long."

John just laughed. "I can't believe you! Are you this forward?"

"Not generally, but I make an exception for good-looking Army doctors," Sherlock replied matter-of-fact. Then those plush lips of his curled up in a smile.

"Actually, that's very good, because I've been wanting to kiss those impossibly sexy lips of yours minutes after meeting you," John confessed.

Those tingles returned to Sherlock's body, as did his erection. "Well John, what are you waiting for?"

John did more than kiss Sherlock. He stripped the detective, laid him down on his bed, and licked his pale, lean frame from head to toe. When he reached Sherlock's achingly hard cock, he dove in, taking all of him into his mouth. Sherlock was left gasping and moaning in pleasure so intense he thought he would explode, and he did literally, minutes later while crying out John's name. John swallowed every last drop without fuss and resumed kissing Sherlock.

The two fell asleep in each other's arms, and when they awoke the next morning, the snow had turned to a light rain. John turned to his lover and gave him a slow, sexy good morning kiss. "Hey beautiful," he greeted.

"Hi," Sherlock said sleepily.

"So, breakfast? And me moving in with you?" John asked, grinning down at Sherlock.

Sherlock grinned back and pressed a hot kiss to John's neck. "Yes my handsome doctor, to both."

John was moved into Sherlock's flat by the end of the month, and as it turned out, he didn't need that second bedroom after all.

 

 

 

 

 


	31. Stag Night!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a few weeks before John and Sherlock's wedding and John's friends have organized a co-ed bachelor party for him. When the entertainment shows up, things get even more cracky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! The final chapter for AltinMerrik's 31 Days of Porn Challenge! I can't believe it's done! Over 52,100 words written! This has really taxed my creativity but I'm pleased with how it's turned out.
> 
> Okay, so this final story is a stag night fix-it! Greg should have been there, poor guy! Mike Stamford too, as he set the two idiots up! And I've included a few more characters to give it more of a party feel.
> 
> This takes place a year after Series 4.

Day Thirty-One - Laughing

 

"Who wants a beer?" Greg calls out cheerfully from his kitchen.

"Me!" Mike Stamford happily replies.

"Don't forget about the bride!" John chimes out with a chuckle.

"Do you ladies want one, or I can get you one of those Henry's Hard Sodas."

"A Henry's sounds great," Molly answered.

"Don't you have any decent wine?" Irene's breathy voice rang out.

"Yeah, but Myc would kill me if I got into his stash."

"He isn't here, is he? Let The Woman have her wine," John playfully retorted.

Irene grinned at him. She was so glad she and John were finally friends. She'd done a lot of questionable things years ago, but that was water under the bridge. She was just thrilled to be a part of the wedding festivities.

"When's Mrs. Hudson coming?" Greg asked, as he grabbed the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc his husband kept in the cabinet, and a wine glass. "You want it with ice Irene?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Mrs. Hudson will be here in a few minutes. She said she'd be up after Corrie," John explained.

"Ugh, that show's really gotten awful," Molly said, wrinkling her nose.

"I wouldn't know, I'm an EastEnders man myself," Mike replied.

John laughed. "Sherlock absolutely refuses to have the soaps on our TV. I'm lucky if I get to watch Doctor Who, but thank God we've got a DVR now. I can watch on my laptop and he can hog the TV in all his glory watching documentaries on bees."

"So where is the happy groom tonight?" Irene inquired to John.

"He's at home trying to crack a cold case. A woman was found on the side of a highway, her wrists and feet bound, a nylon stocking wrapped around her neck, and tons of morphine along with other drugs found in her system. Before her death, she claimed she was being harassed by unknown assailants for the last seven years. Creepy phone calls, threatening notes left on her doorstep, random assaults by strange men, her house was set on fire. She would change her phone number but the stalkers kept managing to obtain it and call her. It's very strange. According to the case notes, the police ended up thinking she faked all of it herself, but they're not sure why. She even committed herself to a mental hospital."

Greg let out a whistle. "Wow, that's crazy."

John nodded. "I told Sherlock that maybe she did do it herself and she didn't know it, an alternate personality. But he scoffed at me and said most cases of dissociative identity disorder are proven to be phony."

"And how did you reply to that comment?" Molly asked.

"I told him not true, I was living with an active case."

Everyone started laughing. Mike even slapped his knee. "Good one John!"

"Oh yeah it was Mike. Sherlock set himself up for that comeback."

Greg brought John and Mike their beers, and an orange-flavored Henry's Hard Soda for Molly. "Irene, your wine is coming right up."

"Thank you dear," Irene told him.

Once everyone got their drinks, a comfortable silence settled in. Everyone was happy for a change. Greg and Mycroft were in a steady relationship and were living together, Mike was happily married with kids, Irene was with her longtime partner Kate, and Molly was dating a policeman named Pete that Greg introduced her to. 

And of course John and Sherlock, who finally realized his late wife Mary's dream of what the two could be, and finally got together after admitting their dormant feelings for each other. The two were at Baker Street raising Rosie, almost two years old, and she was their pride and joy.

Sherlock had proposed to John on New Year's Day. The two celebrated a quiet New Year's Eve at their flat with Rosie, and watched the London fireworks outside on Baker Street after a champagne toast and a kiss after putting the little girl to bed. The next morning, Sherlock surprised John with breakfast in bed---and a ring inside his empty tea mug. John had been so startled he upset the breakfast tray. So after John accepted Sherlock's proposal, they went out for breakfast and took Rosie with them.

Now it was the beginning of August, and the two were exchanging vows in a few weeks. It was going to be a small ceremony with Mycroft, Sherlock's parents, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Irene, Mike, Greg, and even John's sister Harry and her wife Clara were coming as well.

The wedding and celebration dinner was being held at Angelo's. Angelo had offered to close down his restaurant on a Friday for the event. Sunday following the wedding, John and Sherlock would be leaving for a nine day cruise to Antigua. John had chosen it, because a murder mystery was being held on the boat one of the nights, and he knew Sherlock would be excited to participate. John was just looking forward to swimming and visiting the beaches. Little Rosie would be staying at Mummy and Daddy Holmes' house. The two were thrilled to take care of her and no doubt would be spoiling her rotten.

"Okay everyone, who's for chicken wings?" Mike said after draining his beer.

John chuckled. "Trust you to bring up the food first."

"Of course." Mike patted his stomach. "I didn't get this perfect round shape by sets at the gym."

"I'm starving, I could murder some wings," Molly announced, getting up and heading for the buffet that was laid out on a table on the other side of the room.

"As long as that's all you murder," Greg joked.

*****

Everyone was chowing down on wings, salad, chips, dip, and a veggie platter prepared by Molly. There was plenty of laughing and joking going around the room. Mrs. Hudson had finally arrived with her famous rumballs, catching the group up on the latest Coronation Street episode.

There was a knock at the door interrupting the conversation. "Are we expecting another guest Greg?" John asked.

"I don't think so. Only just all of you," he replied.

Greg went to answer the door. Standing there were two scruffy dressed young men in front of a giant cardboard cake. Greg looked at the scene in astonishment. "What's all this?" 

Everyone moved to see what was going on, and were taken aback by the sight of the men and an oversize white cake with purple ribbons. "Uh, you sure you've got the right address?" Greg asked.

"I have a special delivery for John Watson," one of the men said.

"Oh Greg, you didn't! How could you hire a stripper when we've got women here?" John chastised him.

"Yes, especially when Irene would have done it for free," Mrs. Hudson dryly added.

Mike snickered, Molly blushed, and Irene just grinned.

"John, I didn't hire a stripper," Greg insisted.

"Look, can we roll this thing in?" the other man said. "All me and Pat were told is that this cake is supposed to be delivered here to John Watson."

"Yeah, okay, bring it in," Greg relented. The men wheeled the cake inside. "Enjoy," Pat said, and John could have sworn he was smirking.

Everyone was staring at the cake, waiting for the stripper to pop out. "So..." Mike began.

And then the stripper finally made their appearance. Only it was a very familiar face. It was Sherlock, clad in his blue dressing gown.

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed, his face getting red. "What in the hell---"

"Hello John," Sherlock said, smiling deviously. "Surprised?"

"That's one way to put it," Greg muttered.

"You absolute nutter! I should have known!" John groaned and did a facepalm.

"So Sherlock, are you going to strip or what?" Irene was smirking hard.

"You might as well dear. John's told me what a nice behind you have," Mrs. Hudson added.

"Oh God, Mrs. Hudson," John groaned.

"This is hysterical!" Mike said, laughing. "Sherlock, you old dog!"

Sherlock climbed out of the cake and went to John, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "I mentioned to Mycroft several years ago that I would surprise John by jumping out of a cake. And since you are at your bachelor party, I thought it was most appropriate."

"And the two delivery men were from your homeless network," John guessed.

"Correct love." Sherlock kissed him again. "Would you like me to strip now?"

John's face turned bright red. "Uh, it should probably wait until later."

"But John, I've composed a new dance. Don't you want to see it?"

"Later," John hissed.

"I'd love to see it. How about you Molly? This may be your only chance to see Sherlock naked," Irene said.

Now it was Molly's turn to be flushed. "Well, I, uh..."

"Oh go on Sherlock. Since you went to all this trouble, we might as well get some entertainment," Greg told him.

Sherlock clapped his hands. "Wonderful." He pulled his phone out his pocket and brought up YouTube. "Greg, can you hook this up to your speakers and press play?"

Greg nodded and went to do it. Seconds later, Dead or Alive's "You Spin Me Round" began.

"Oh Lord," John murmured. 

Irene pushed John into his chair. "Get 'em tiger," Irene purred to Sherlock.

Sherlock was moving his hips like he was hula hooping, but much slower and more seductive. He began to untie his dressing gown. John sat there, face red like a strawberry.

Everyone else continued to stand, transfixed by the scene of a six-foot curly-haired detective, now standing before them in very tight dark purple boxer briefs, a set of metal dogs tags around his neck moving in time with the rest of his body. 

"Wait just a minute- Where on earth did you find those?" John cried.

Sherlock fingered the metal hanging around his neck. "They look good around me don't they darling?"

Sherlock started to speed up his bumping and grinding, then began to make his way towards John. Soon he was straddling his fiance, thrusting his cock in John's face, bulging against his pants.

"Go Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called out.

"I can't believe this," John muttered.

"Sherlock, if you ever decide to give up the detective thing, I think Chippendales could be in your future," Greg cracked.

"He is quite good," Mike remarked, moving his head to the music.

"He's a man of many talents," Molly said.

John now had a lap full of lanky genius, who wrapped his arms around John and began planting kisses up and down his neck. "I love you so much John," he breathed between kisses.

"I love you too. But you're still a right nutter." John started to laugh. 

"I wonder what in the hell we're gonna do with this cake," Greg said.

"Keep it and surprise Mycroft," Irene suggested. 

Greg stroked his chin. "Hmm." Wouldn't his boyfriend be surprised if Greg jumped out. Preferably wearing that sexy cop costume he sported last Halloween.

Sherlock and John were now kissing fully. The music had stopped. Everyone stood around wondering what to do next.

"Wanna take this party down to The Silver Fox and leave the lovebirds here?" Mike said.

"Sounds good to me. I could do with a pint," Greg answered.

"I'm in," Molly agreed.

"Same for me," said Irene.

"I'll come too. Mrs. Turner is sick with a cold so our card night is off," Mrs. Hudson chimed in.

"Great!" Greg turned to the newlyweds-to-be, who were off in their own little world, shamelessly making out like teenagers. "Hey you two, the rest of us are going out for a bit. Do what you want but stay out of mine and Myc's bedroom!"

Sherlock replied by raising his hand and making a shooing motion.

Greg laughed and he and the rest of the gang left, leaving the two men still in the chair. 

Sherlock broke off the heated kisses, and scooped John up in his arms. "Hey!" he called out. "Save this for the wedding night!"

"I need practice," Sherlock said, kissing John again.

Sherlock took John to the spare room, and it wasn't long before the two were balls deep in the throes of passion, Sherlock riding his blogger like a cowboy on a bucking bronco. 

After they were satiated, John snuggled close to Sherlock. "Bloody terrific as always love."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's forehead. "I love you."

John laughed. "I love you two, you mad brain. I can't wait to be married to you."

The rest of the evening was nothing but laughter, as the two ticked and touched each other, totally in love, and it was always going to be like that for the rest of their lives.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cold case mentioned is real and to this day it remains unsolved. It's one of the most creepiest and baffling I've ever heard of. Google "Cindy James murder."


End file.
